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Tales of Algeria, 

LIFE AMONG THE AKABS 


FROM THE YÉLOCE OF ALEXANDRE DÜMAS. 


KICHARD MEADE BACHE. 


FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS. 



C PHILADELPHIA: 

CLAXTON, EEMSEN & HAFFELFINGEEr 

Nos. 819 & 821 MARKET STREET. 


1 868 . 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 
CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Eastern 

District of Pennsylvania. 






•P 

K. 




Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers, Philada. 


The whole of ^^The Yéloce’^ is not presented in this 
volume, for the reason that it contains much that can 
interest only the French, and much that even the 
plainest-speaking age of English did not tolerate 
in print. The original being desultory in its character, 
and therefore without the element of form essential 
to constituting a work of art, cannot be deprived of a 
unity which it does not possess, and in this volume 
therefore appear, merely separated from the rubbish in 
which they were concealed, the careless but graphic 
sketches from the hand of a great master. 



CONTENTS 


OUR SHIP, THE VÉLOCE 

TRAFALGAR 

THE HARBOR OF TANGIER 

THE FIRST ARAB 

HUNTING AND FISHING 

THE JEW OF THE EAST 

THE BOAR-HUNT 

A JEWISH WEDDING 

THE PILLARS OF HERCULES 

THE ENGLISH IN SPAIN 

GIBRALTAR 

THE FRENCH PRISONERS 

MELLILA 

DJEMA R’ AZOUAT 

THE COMBAT OF SIDI IBRAHIM 

THE DEFENCE OF THE MARABOUT OF SIDI IBRAHIM 

THE MASSACRE 

THE BANQUET 

BIZERTA 

FRENCH JUSTICE AND TURKISH JUSTICE.. 

TUNIS THE WHITE 

THE CITY OF TUNIS 

THE BEY DU CAMP 

CARTHAGE— THE TOMB OF ST. LOUIS 

THE BALL AT THE CONSULATE 

my ARTIST, IIADJ’ YOUNIS 

THE DEPARTURE 

5 


PAGE 

. 7 

. 17 
.. 26 
. 33 
.. 41 
46 
.. 58 
.. 74 
.. 87 
.. 93 
. 100 
.. 108 
.. 116 
.. 124 
.. 130 
.. 139 
.. 149 
.. 161 
.. 166 
... 174 
.. 188 
... 192 
... 203 
... 210 
,.. 218 
... 228 
... 234 


6 


CONTENTS 


PAOB 

GALITA ISLAND 239 

BONA— ST. AUGUSTINE 245 

ARAB STORIES OF LIONS 249 

GÉRARD, THE LION-KILLER 257 

THE SHEIK, BOU AKAS BEN ACHOUR 272 

THE CAMP OP DJEMILAH 283 

THE BENI ADESSE AND THE HACHACIIIAS 298 

THE ZEPHYRS 306 

THE ZEPHYR THEATRE 324 

THE CITY OF ALGIERS 329 

CONTRAST BETWEEN THE ARAB AND THE FRENCHMAN 337 

FAREWELL TO AFRICA 346 


Tales of Algeria. 


-o- 


OUR SHIP, THE VÉL0CE. 



‘E were somewhat uneasy on arriving at Cadiz. Before 


* * my departure from Paris, the understanding between 
the Minister of Public Instruction and me was to the ef- 
fect that a steamer should await us at Cadiz, to transport 
us to Algiers. From Seville, where we were detained by 
the hearty welcome of the inhabitants, and by the promise 
of Montés and Chiclanero, who had pledged themselves to 
show us a bull-fight, I had written to Monsieur Huet, our 
Consul at Cadiz, to inquire whether he knew of any des- 
patch-steamer’s being in port, awaiting our disposal; and 
he had replied that during eight days no vessel of war Sf 
any nationality whatever had arrived at Cadiz. This news, 
however, had not deterred us from starting, in order to keep 
our appointment faithfully, even if the vessel did not keep 
hers. 

We had, however, stayed in Seville three days "longer 
than we had intended to stay. delay of three days in 

our travels was for the purpose of waiting for my son, who 
one fine morning had disappeared. The information elicited 
concerning him led me to believe that he had retaken the 
road to Cordova : but it indicated nothing more. Now, as 
there is a road which runs direct from Cordova to Cadiz, 
passing two leagues to the right of Seville, I hoped that, 


8 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


wlien I arrived at the City of the Sun, I should find my 
steamer and my boy. 

Our whole attention, therefore, on entering the port of 
Cadiz, was not directed toward that charming city which, 
as Byron says : 

“ Blanche, grandit aux yeux, fille du flot amer, 

Entre fazur du ciel, et l’azur de la mer.” * 

Our attention was directed toward the roadstead. This 
roadstead presented to the view a real forest of masts, 
amidst which we joyfully discerned two smoke-stacks and 
two waving flags. The flags were both tricolor. So, in- 
stead of one French vessel, two French vessels were in the 
roadstead. 

We landed on the pier, and whilst my companions super- 
intended the unlading of our baggage, I ran to the Custom 
House to obtain some information. 

The two vessels were the Achéron and the Véloce. The 
Achêron, which had been three days in port, was about to 
take to the coast of Morocco Monsieur Duchâteau, our 
Consul at Tangier, who had been commissioned to deliver 
to Abd el Rhaman some presents from the King of France. 
The destination of the Véloce, which had arrived only the 
previous evening, was as yet unknown. All our hope, 
therefore, centred on the Véloce. 

After the usual difficulties, we passed the Custom House, 
and proceeded toward the Hôtel de l’Europe, through 
streets a little broader^but not better paved, than those 
of Seville, Grenada, and Cordova. 

We had hardly got settled, when Monsieur Vial, second 
in command of the corvette Véloce, was announced. Dur- 


* The Translator can neither remember nor find in Lord Byron’s 
writings two lines of which the above can be the translation. 


OUR SHIP, THE VÉLOCE. 


9 


ing the general uneasiness, I had always preserved the 
serenity which becomes leaders of expeditions. Turning 
toward my companions, who remained in the various posi- 
tions in which the announcement of the mosso had found 
them, my. glance plainly said: “You observe that I was 
not wrong in counting on the fulfilment of the promise 
which was made to me.” Every one bowed assent. 

Monsieur Vial was ushered in. He had been sent from 
the vessel by Captain Bérard, as the bearer of a letter 
to me. 

The Minister of Marine having stated from the tribune 
that the Véloce had been placed at my disposal in conse- 
quence of a misunderstanding, I may be permitted to record 
the letter here in full. It will give an idea of the degree 
of credence to be attached to the statements of Ministers 
in general, and to those of the Minister of Marine in par- 
ticular. Attention ! 


" ÀDMIXISTEATfOïr OF ALGERIA, CABINET. 

“ Monsieur : 

“The Marshal did not arrive at Algiers until the 6th 
of this month, and, on landing, I received the letter which 
you did me the honor to address to me from Madrid. .At 
the same time, we received a letter from Monsieur de 
Salvandy, who requested us to send to Cadiz for you. 

“I cannot express to you how much the Marshal was 
grieved at the mischance which prevented us from meeting 
you a few days sooner. A steamer sails this evening for 
Oran, and carries to the frigate Véloce an order to go for 
you to Cadiz, or any other point on the coast which you 
may happen to be visiting. The Captain must even ascer- 
tain whether you have not made an excursion in the 
vicinity, and wait for you where you can embark. I trust, 
monsieur, that the charming country in which you found 


10 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


yourself, enabled you to bear with equanimity the unin- 
tentional quarantine to which we are subjecting you on the 
coast of Spain. 

“TheVéloce will carry you to Oran, touching at Tan- 
gier. Thence, whenever you wish, you can reach Algiers, 
by taking the steamer which leaves there every Saturday. 
At that place, we will receive you with all your staff. We 
are desirous of having you with us as soon as possible; 
and, therefore, I beg you, for my sake, not to remain longer 
than necessary at Oran, but quickly to reach the capital of 
Algeria, reserving to yourself the r ight of retracing your steps, 
if you think proper. 

“ I scarcely need tell you, monsieur, that the Marshal 
will be most happy to receive your travelling companions. 

“ I regret exceedingly, monsieur, that I was unable to meet 
you at Cadiz. I should have been happy to lessen the dis- 
tance between us; but I am not my own master. The 
Marshal has arrived here quite ill, and has not yet been 
able to resume command; and, besides, on arriving, we 
found so much work in arrears, that its execution was 
unavoidable. 

“Accept, monsieur, with the expression of my regrets 
for all the inconveniences which you have suffered, the 
assurance of my sincere wishes for your prosperous voyage, 
and my most distinguished consideration.”* 

I had been in expectation of receiving a mere diplomatic ' 


* I know not whether the person who wrote me this letter, and who 
was attached to the Administration of Algeria, is at present in France 
or in Algiers; but wherever he may be, I beg him to accept my 
thanks for a welcome even more gracious than he had promised. And, 
although my silence may have had the appearance of forgetfulness 
and ingratitude, I beg him to put faith in my memory, and above all 
in my gratitude. 


OUR SHIP, THE VÉLOCE. 


11 


or military order. I received, with that order, a letter 
charming in taste and politeness : it was much more than I 
had expected. 

I thanked Monsieur Vial for the trouble which he had 
so kindly taken, and as dinner was just then announced, I 
kept him, wdlling or unwilling, to dine with us. 

Dinner was spent in asking questions. Was theWeloce 
a fast vessel? Was her captain good company? What 
was the prospect as to the weather ? 

Speed was not the strong point of the Véloce. She was 
a handsome and stout ship, a good sea-boat, behaving beau- 
tifully in rough weather ; able, thanks to her experienced 
crew, to get out of a bad scrape, as she had one day proved 
at Dunkirk, when she had had the honor of bearing the 
King of France and part of the Koyal Family. But her 
boilers w^ere too small, and her rate of speed was too low for 
her tonnage. In fine, it was in no wise the fault of the 
Véloce if she w^as not a fast vessel; but it must be admitted 
that, in her best days, she did not make more than seven 
or eight knots an hour ; that is to say, did not make more 
than two to two and a half leagues an hour. 

As for Captain Bérard, he was a man of forty or forty- 
five years of age ; courteous as is usual with naval officers, 
but grave and silent. Barely had he been seen to laugh 
on board ship, and it was much doubted, despite the stock 
of gayety with which we had left Paris, — ^which was not yet 
entirely exhausted, — whether we should be able to smooth 
the wrinkles from his brow. 

As for the weather, we needed not discuss that : it was 
certain to be fine. This assurance brightened the prospects 
of Maquet, who, having nearly died of sea-sickness on the 
Guadalquivir, had looked forward with anything but plea- 
sure to a voyage to the land of the Cimmerians, regarded 
by the ancients as the cradle of tempests. 


12 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


The dinner was gay. We gave Monsieur Vial a speci- 
men of what w^e could do in that line. He, too, seemed to 
be an excellent companion, and we parted delighted with 
each other. 

It had been agreed that, at noon, the following day, we 
would go aboard the Veloce, to call upon the Captain; and 
that on Saturday, the 21st, at eight o’clock in the morning, 
we would set sail for Tangier. 

These three days had been asked for by my companions, 
for the purpose of seeing Cadiz, and by me, for that of 
affording Alexandre time to rejoin the party. 

The next day, at eleven o’clock in the morning, as we 
were preparing to present ourselves on board. Captain 
Bérard was announced. 

It was, in truth, the captain of the Véloce, who antici- 
pated our visit by coming to pay his own. We, with some 
sense of shame, recognized in this act the extreme courtesy 
of our naval officers. 

Captain Bérard stayed four hours with us, and I think that 
on returning aboard his vessel, he was as much delighted to 
have us for passengers as we were to have him for captain. 

It was understood that our visit to the Véloce should be 
postponed until the morrow, and that, on the occasion, we 
should take a look at our quarters. 

We were punctual. The Véloce awaited us like a co- 
quette bent on conquest. The Captain was at the gangway, 
the whole crew were on deck, and we were received with 
the salute of the boatswain’s whistle. 

The Captain took possession of us, and conducted us 
below. The dining-room, which was the first thing shoTvm 
to us — ^the Captain having heard that, since leaving Bay- 
onne, we had been almost starved— süll. bore some traces 
of the late presence of the august passengers by whom it 
had been occupied. Its mouldings were gilt, and cherry- 


OUR SHIP, THE VÉLOCE. 


13 


colored silk curtains draped the doorways leading from the 
staterooms into the saloon. 

The staterooms were five in number. The one at the 
stern was entered by two doors, and comprised the whole 
width of the ship. It was the largest, but it was also the 
one in which was the greatest motion, especially in the 
pitching of the ship, as its position was at the extreme end 
of the stern. The four other staterooms were on the sides 
of the ship. One of these was the Captain’s. At his first 
intimation to me of his desire to relinquish it in my behalf, 
I stopped him short ; and it was agreed that, so far as pos- 
sible, we would incommode no one. Of the three remain- 
ing staterooms, I took one, Boulanger another, and the 
third was reserved for Alexandre. 

We wished to extend to Maquet and Giraud the same 
civility which the Captain had extended to us ; but they 
had already procured some information from Vial, and 
declared that they would not leave the wardroom. The 
wardroom, being situated just amidships, is of all places 
on a ship the one where the motion is least perceptible. 
An excellent cabin in the wardroom was therefore pro- 
vided for each of them. 

As for Desbarolles, he boasted loudly of being perfectly 
familiar with Neptune’s freaks, and he therefore desired to 
be entirely independent as to his quarters for the night. 
As there were five vacant staterooms, we were not very 
uneasy, they being rather more- than were necessary to 
accommodate him and his rifle. 

Vial, in addition, placed at our service his cabin on deck. 
In it, there was just space enough for a table, bed, and a 
chair. But it was a real treasure-trove, on account of its 
position, which allowed the breeze to play to and fro 
through the door and the window. 

The gunsmith was introduced to us. Our guns had 
2 


14 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


great need of him. We immediately collected and sent 
them to him. I appointed him, on the spot, my gunsmith 
extraordinary. 

We returned to Cadiz, delighted with the ship, with the 
Captain, and with his officers. Although partaking of the 
general enthusiasm, Giraud and Maquet expressed theirs 
more soberly. I have already explained the cause of this. 
Giraud — I forgot to mention the circumstance in proper 
time and place — ^had escaped sea-sickness on the Guadal- 
quivir, only by remaining prostrate on deck from San 
Lucar to Cadiz. 

During the next day, and the day after that, we waited 
in vain for Alexandre. Not only did he not appear, but 
the news of him, obtained from conductors of diligences 
and from mail-carriers, took so strange a form, that it was 
impossible to base any theory as to the likelihood of his 
return. 

Fortunately, a young Frenchman whom we had met at 
Seville, Monsieur de Saint Prix, had followed us to Cadiz. 
He promised to wait there for Alexandre, and despatch him 
to Gibraltar by one of the steamers which ply between 
ancient Gades* and ancient Calpe.f 

In spite of all the precautions taken to ensure the safe 
return of my prodigal son, I did not the less leave Cadiz 
oppressed with anxiety. But the time of our departure 
had been fixed for Saturday, the 21st, at eight o’clock in 
the morning ; and on that day, at half-past seven o’clock, 
we set foot in the boat sent by the Captain to take us 
from the quay, while the yawl with a full crew took our 
baggage. 

The Yéloce was surrounded by a cloud of large and 
small gulls. On nearing the ship, I, as I was desirous of 


* Cadiz. 


f Gibraltar. 


OUR SHIP, THE VÉLOCE. 


15 


giving our future companions a specimen of my skill, fired 
the barrels of my gun at two of them, and both fell. The 
crew of the yawl went to get them, as we, after this clever 
stroke, marched triumphantly aboard. 

Chance had so ordered it that the two gulls had only 
had their wings broken. They were brought aboard, and 
the surgeon, with the aid of a pair of scissors, performed 
an operation on them ; whereupon, they were set loose on 
deck, where they immediately commenced eating and run- 
ning about, to the supreme delight of those big children 
called sailors. They were at once christened, one receiving 
the name of Véloce, the other the name of Achéron. 

Paul had brought with him a third passenger, a gull 
wounded on the Guadalquivir. It was a gull of the largest 
size, almost as big as an albatross. It was already called 
Rapide, after the véssel which had carried us from Seville 
to Cadiz. 

Formality required us to deliver our passports into the 
Captain’s hands. We hastened to fulfil this duty, so as to 
escape the sooner from our official character. 

As the Minister of War, and the Minister of Foreign 
Affairs, did from the tribune declare, the first, ^^That any 
one might easily have credited my being entrusted with a mis- 
sioiij masmuch as I boasted of it at every turnf^ and the 
second, “ That he was entirely unaware that a mission had 
been assigned to the person in question,” my readers will 
permit me to place before them my passport, as I have 
already done in the case of the letter in relation to the 
Véloce. After that, I shall have finished with these 
gentlemen ; 

“In the name of the King of France: 

“We, the Minister of Foreign AflTairs, request the military 
and the civil authorities entrusted with the maintenance 


16 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


of the public welfare, either in the interior of the kingdom, 
or in the countries at peace or allied with France, to allow 
free passage to Monsieur Alexandre Dumas Davy de la 
Pailleterie, journeying to Algeria by the way of Spain, 
charged with a mission from the Minister of Public In- 
struction. 

“ Travelling with two servants. 

‘‘ And to afford him aid and protection in case of need. 

“ (Signed) Guizot. 

“By order of the Minister. 

“ Chief of the Bureau of the Chancellerie. 

“(Signed) De Lamarre.” 

It may be urged that, the Minister of Foreign Affairs 
signs so many passports, he might very easily have 
forgotten that he signed this one. To this objection I 
answer, that an entirely personal matter may aid his 
memory. On the 2d of October, at eleven o’clock in the 
morning, the Minister of Foreign Affairs requested me, 
through Monsieur Génie, to come in person to the Bureau, 
to receive my passport. I did myself the honor of keep- 
ing this appointment, and I stayed nearly two hours at 
the Hôtel on the Boulevard des Capucines. If Monsieur 
Guizot has forgotten the circumstance. Monsieur de Sal- 
yandy, who has already given proof that his memory is 
more reliable than that of his colleagues, will doubtless 
recall it. 


TRAFALGAR. 


I HAVE already introduced you to Captain Bérard and 
Lieutenant Vial. One word now, in relation to the 
other officers of the Véloce. 

They were four in number — ^the Second Lieutenant, the 
Second Midshipman, the Surgeon, and the Paymaster. The 
First Midshipman was absent. We shall soon learn for 
what purpose. 

The Second Lieutenant, Monsieur Salles, was a man about 
thirty-five years of age, light-complexioned, with a mild 
and an agreeable expression. He was very well informed, 
and a charming companion; but his health was so poor 
that he was subject to fits of melancholy, during which he 
shut himself up in his cabin, never appearing on deck, 
except to perform his duty. When we parted from each 
other, we had somewhat relieved, not his disease, but his 
melancholy. I think that he must have regretted us, were 
it only as revulsives. 

The Second Midshipman, Monsieur Antoine, was a man 
already advanced in years. Why was he still only a second 
midshipman ? — no one could divine, for, aboard, he passed 
for an excellent officer. Yet, although he had been twenty 
years in the service, he might, as he was not on the Naval 
List, have been at any moment discharged without half- 
pay, at the first, whim that seized the Minister of Marine. 
This insecure position made him uneasy. Whether the 
result of misanthropy, or of timidity, we saw little of him. 


18 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


The Surgeon, Monsieur Marquès, was a young man of 
twenty-five or twenty-six years of age. He was performing 
the duties of the surgeon of the ship, who was either on 
leave, or sick, I know not exactly which. He belonged to 
the Army, and was not yet accustomed to the perfidious 
element, as they say at the Institute. Maquet and Giraud 
were specially commended to his good offices. 

The Paymaster, Monsieur Rebec, had come directly from 
Marseilles. Not only had he arrived from that place, but 
he had been born there — a circumstance which at once 
brought us together. In truth, Marseilles is to me a second 
native-land, so hospitable was she. Some of my best 
friends are from Marseilles— Mery, Autran. When I 
wished to represent two types,— one pre-eminent in intellect, 
the other in mercantile honor, — I borrowed them from that 
daughter of ancient Phocæa, loved as my mother, and I 
named them Dantès and Morrel. 

The rest of the ship’s company, non-commissioned officers 
and sailors, was composed of about one hundred and 
twenty men. 

At the time of which I am speaking, we had no oppor- 
tunity to make more than a cursory observation. As soon 
as we were aboard, they commenced to get under way. 

The prediction of Vial, regarding the state of the 
barometer, had not come true. Instead of the clear 
weather that had been promised, came a drizzling rain 
that cast a veil of mist over that city of azure, emerald, 
and gold, called Cadiz. But Vial none the less maintained 
what he had said. It was only necessary to leave the port 
for the barometer to rise ; and the wind, in the open sea, 
would, before mid-day, give us in exchange for this Novem- 
ber sun and easterly wind, the ever-mild temperature and 
pure sky of Africa. 

There is in this word, Africa, something enchanting. 


TRAFALGAK. 


19 


magical, which exists not for any other portion of the 
globe. Africa has in all ages been the land of enchant- 
ments and prodigies. Ask Homer, and he will tell you 
that it 'was on its enchanted shores the lotus grew — the 
fruit so luscious that strangers 'who ate it lost all remem- 
brance of their native laird, the most powerful of all memo- 
ries. It is in Africa that Herodotus places the Gardens 
of the Hesperides, from which Hercules was obliged to 
pluck the golden fruit; and the Palace of the Gorgons, 
of which Perseus was obliged to force the gates. It is in 
Africa that w^e must seek the country of the Garamantes, 
where, still according to Herodotus, the cattle are obliged 
to graze backward,- on account of their strange horns, 
which project parallel wdth the head, and curve around in 
front of the muzzle. 

It is in Africa that Strabo places those seven-cubit 
leeches, a single one of which can drain the blood of a 
dozen men. 

If one can credit Pomponius Mela, the satyrs, the 
fauns, and the ægipans, inhabited Africa ; and not far from 
the mountains where these goat-footed ^enii roved, lived the 
Atarantes, sole remnants of a former Avorld, who with ÿells 
greeted the rising and the setting sun. The one-eyed 
beings, who, with a single leg, ran as swiftly as the ostrich 
and the gazelle, — ^the leocrotes, which had deers’ legs, 
badgers’ heads, the tail, the neck, the chest of the lion, — 
the Psylli, a people whose saliva cured serpent-bites, — ^the 
calopleba, which slew as surely with its glance as the Par- 
thian with the arrow, — the basilisk, whose breath dissolved 
the hardest stones, were all natives of Africa. 

“And,” says Pliny, “there is nothing astonishing in 
Africa’s being the land of prodigies and monsters; for 
water is so scarce there, that numbers of ferocious beasts 
congregate about springs and lakes, and there, by favor or 


20 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


by force, couple with females of different breeds, and thus 
propagate beings of unknown names and new forms.” 

It is in Africa, also, where reigned the famous Prester 
John,* whom Marco Polo regarded as more powerful, more 
rich than all the other princes of the earth ; and who held 
under his sway more than half the country on the course 
of the Nile. 

It is in Africa, also, that the eagle paired with the she- 
wolf, from which union came the dragon ; which had the 
beak, the wings of a bird, the tail of a serpent, the head 
of a wolf, and the skin of a tiger. Leo, the African, 
would doubtless have seen the monster, had not nature, by 
denying it eyelids, forced it to remain in darkness, broad 
daylight paining its eyes. 

The very tempests in Africa appear to be more frightful 
than other tempests. The very winds of the desert assume 
a mysterious name, raising a sandy ocean in burning waves, 
which, envious of the Red Sea for engulfing Pharaoh 
and the Egyptians, stifled Cambyses and his army. 

Our peasants smile when one speaks to them of the 
North Wind, or of the South Wind. The Arab trembles 
when one speaks to him of the Simoom. 

In fine, was it not in Africa in which, in the year of 
grace 1843, was discovered and introduced to the Scientific 
Commission in general, and to Colonel Bory de Saint Vin- 
cent in particular, the famous rat with a proboscis? — in 
reference to which I shall later have the honor of discours- 
ing; — a charming little animal, whose existence was sus- 
pected by Pliny, denied by Buffon, but discovered by the 
Zouaves, those great explorers of Algeria. 

* Asia is the country in which Prester J ohn was first reputed to 
dwell. It was not until a comparatively late period that the idea of 
the existence of Prester John in Africa was entertained. See any 
encyclopedia. — Trans. 


TEAFALGAE. 


21 


So you see that, from Homer’s time to ours, Africa has 
always become more and more fabulous : a circumstance 
which, in the view of travellers and philosophers, should 
double its attractions, especially when compared with our 
world, which, growing more and more matter of fact, is so 
unfortunate as to grow more and more dull. 

Fortunately, for the moment, we floated just between the 
two worlds ; having on the port side, as we then said, the 
Straits of Gibraltar, which narrow and sink toward the 
east ; astern of us, Europe enshrouded in the rain ; and for- 
ward, the mountains of Morocco appearing in the sunshine. 

Maquet is already lying down in his cabin. At the first 
motion of the Véloce, the deck seemed literally to sink 
under his feet, and he was at once obliged tO relinquish the 
perpendicular for the horizontal position. 

Giraud is still up, if it may be called up ; but he is 
wrapped in his cloak : he says not a word, so great is his 
fear of opening his mouth. From time to time he seats 
liimself — mournful as Jeremiah on the shore of the Jordan. 
Giraud is thinking about his family. 

Hesbarolles, with Vial, is promenading with great strides 
up and do^vn the deck. He is talking, gesticulating, re- 
counting his journey in Spain, his altercations with the 
muleteers of Catalonia, his hunts with the bandits of the 
Sierra Morena, his flirtations with the Manolas of Madrid, 
and his combats with the robbers of Villa Major and Malo 
Sitio. At every turn, he keeps to windward of the cigar- 
smoke of his companion. I hardly think that the voyage 
will end without Hesbarolles’ feeling some symptoms of 
that sickness without remedy which torments Maquet and 
threatens Giraud. 

Boulanger and I have mounted a bench, and, grasping 
the rigging with one hand, follow the oscillating move- 
ments of the vessel, observing their variation. Within 


22 


’ TALES OF ALGERIA. 


reach, I have a rifle loaded with ball, in hope of seeing 
porpoises; and a fowling-piece loaded with shot, in honor 
of gulls, or any other fowl which may do us the favor of 
passing within range. 

A fourth of the crew are on deck, the rest attend to their 
affairs — that is to say, sleep, play, or gossip in the tier be- 
'low, as they would say at the Opera. The. twenty or 
twenty-five men who are visible are picturesquely grouped 
near the scuppers, at the foot of the capstan, or upon the 
guns. Three cabin-boys play with our crippled birds, 
which hop about after the crumbs of bread thro\vn to them, 
and continue to aflect the most complete indifference at 
their forcible removal from their element. 

The vessel, like the ship Argo, goes alone, without need 
of other guidance, of other will, than that of the helms- 
man, who with a lazy air turns the wheel, now to the right, 
now to the left. There is something delightful in thus feel- 
ing one’s self drawn along toward the Unknown. 

The Unknown is before us ; at every instant we are ap- 
proaching it. Vial was right; the sky grows clear and 
the sea calm. 

A perceptible current flows from the ocean into the 
Mediterranean. But you can well understand that what 
would trouble a sailing-ship is of no moment to these kings 
of the sea, which traverse their empire, crowned with smoke, 
and seated on a throne of flame. 

One hears much of the length of voyages. It is possible 
that in high latitudes, out of sight of land, where one can 
discern, far as the eye can reach, naught but sky and water, 
ennui may come with 'weariness, precursor or companion, 
and seat itself beside the traveller. But, in truth, to the 
thinker, to him whose gaze seeks to penetrate the ocean’s 
depth or the heaven’s height, — two emblems of the Infinite, 
— I know not a spectacle more changing, varied, more sub- 


TRAFALGAR. 


23 


lime than that watery waste, at the extremity of which 
seem to meet the cloud, wave of the heavens — the wave, 
cloud of the sea. 

I well know that one cannot dream forever ; that there 
are voyages of three or four months in duration ; and that 
a dream of threa or four months’ duration would come to 
appear rather long. But, do not the Orientals dream away 
all their lives, and when by chance they wake, do they not 
hasten to fall asleep again by means of opium or of ha- 
shish ? 

I was about to join practice with precept, by plunging 
over head and ears into my reverie, when Vial passing by, 
still conversing with Desbarolles, touched me on the shoul- 
der, and pointing in the direction of a cape on which tri- 
umphantly played a ray of sunlight victorious over the rain, 
“ Trafalgar,” said he. There are names of strange power ; 
for they bear with them a world of ideas, which, as soon as 
they present themselves to our mind, invade it, and rout the 
preceding rain of thought, amidst which Ave were reposing 
as serenely as a sultan in his seraglio. 

BetAveen England and France there are six Avords which 
sum up all their history — Cressy, Poitiers, Agincourt, 
Aboukir, Trafalgar, Waterloo. Six Avords — each express- 
ing one of those defeats from the effect of which it might 
be thought that a country could never recover; one of 
those wounds through which it might be thought that a 
nation would lose all its blood. 

And yet France has arisen ; and yet the blood has re- 
turned to the veins of its lusty people. The English have 
alAA^ays beaten us, but we have always driven them away. 

J oan of Arc regained at Orleans the croAvn Avhich Henry 
the Sixth had already placed on his head. Napoleon, Avith 
the sword of Marengo and Austerlitz, scratched off at 
Amiens the lilies which, during fourteen hundred years, had 


24 


TALES OP ALGEEIA. 


been quartered on tlie coat-of-arms of George tlie Fourth. 
True, the English burned Joan of Arc at Rouen, and im- 
prisoned Napoleon in Saint Helena. We ha'^T’e avenged our- 
selves by making of the one a martyr, of the other a god. 

Now, whence comes this hate which ceaselessly attacks, 
this force which eternally repels ? Whence comes this flow 
which, for ten centuries, has carried England toward us, 
and this ebb which, for five centuries, has swept her back 
upon herself? May it not be that, in the equilibrium of 
the Universe, she represents Force, and we, Mind; and 
that this eternal combat, endless clasp, is but the scriptural 
struggle between Jacob and the Angel, who wrestled a 
whole night, breast to breast, loin to loin, knee to knee, 
even until day-dawn? Thrice overthrown, thrice did 
Jacob arise, and at last remain upright, to become the 
Patriarch of the Twelve Tribes that peopled Israel, and 
spread themselves over the world. 

In former times, on opposite shores of the Mediterranean, 
dwelt two nations, represented by two cities which viewed 
each other as, from opposite shores, France and Eng- 
land view each other. These two cities were Rome and 
Carthage. 

At that time, to the eyes of the world, they only repre- 
sented two material ideas ; the one. Commerce, the other. 
Agriculture — the one, the Plough, the other, the Ship. 

After a contest of two centuries, after Trebia, Cannæ, 
and' Trasimenus, — ^the Cressy, Poitiers, and Waterloo of 
Rome, — Carthage was annihilated at Zama ; the victorious 
plough passed over the city of Dido ; salt was sown in the 
furrows ; and direful curses were imprecated upon him who 
should attempt to rebuild what had been destroyed. 

Why was it Carthage that succumbed, and not Rome ? 
Was it because Scipio was greater than Hannibal? No! 
As at Waterloo, the victor was lost in the shadow of the 


TRAFALGAE. 


25 


vanquished. No ! It was because Mind was on the side 
of Rome. It was because she bore in her prolific womb 
the words of Christ — ^the civilization of the world. It was 
because, like the beacon, she was as necessary to those ages 
which have passed away as France is to those which are to 
come. This is why France has arisen from the fields of 
Cressy, Agincourt, Poitiers, Waterloo! This is why France 
was not overwhelmed at Aboukir and Trafalgar! ’Tis 
because Catholic France is Rome, because Protestant Eng- 
land is but Carthage ! 

England might disappear from the globe, and half the 
world, which she crushes, would clap their hands with joy. 
Let the light which shines in the hands of France — some- 
times torch, sometimes taper — become extinguished, and 
the whole world would utter in the darkness a long cry of 
agony and despair. 

3 


B 


THE HARBOR OF TANGIER. 


A t half-past six o’clock in the evening, that is to say, 
when darkness had closed in, we cast anchor about 
half a league from Tangier. 

Entering port that evening was not to be thought of, so 
when it w^as announced that dinner was served, we made no 
objection to descending to the dining-saloon. 

On feeling the motion ceasing, or becoming almost im- 
perceptible, Giraud came out of his cabin on deck, and 
Maquet hazarded himself outside of his calnn in the 
wardroom. Except Alexandre, we found ourselves all 
assembled. 

Lieutenant Vial dined with us. It was the Captain’s 
custom to invite every day to breakfast and dinner each of 
his officers in turn. 

At breakfast, only Desbarolles and I had held our own. 
Boulanger had risen from table when the roast meat came 
on, and had gone to take a turn on deck. As for Giraud 
and Maquet, they, like Brutus and Cassius, had been dis- 
tinguished by their absence. Giraud had asked for eatables 
with sweet-oil and vinegar. Maquet had requested to have 
tea. You can know the gradation between me and Maquet, 
by passing from him to Boulanger. 

The meal was gay. The crude things which Giraud had 
eaten had given him a gnawing sensation. The tea had 
weakened Maquet. Boulanger, who had only half-break- 
fasted, added to his dinner what was due to him from 
26 


THE HARBOR OF TANGIER. 


27 


breakfast. Every one did his best, in honor of the Cap- 
tain’s table, which, although really good, seemed to us, by 
comparison, exquisite. 

At dessert, the hail of the officer of the deck resounded, 
and the visit of the Secretary of the French Consulate at 
Tangier was announced. The Secretary was accompanied, 
they said, by one of my friends, who, learning of my 
arrival in port, had hastened to clasp my hand. 

Oiie of my friends at Tangier ! can you realize it ? So, 
in setting foot on the coast of Morocco, it was not a Mo- 
roccan, or an Arab, or ‘a Jew, whom I was about to see — it 
was a Christian, and a Christian friend. 

I have somewhere remarked, that I possess throughout 
the world at least thirty thousand friends. You see now 
that I did not exaggerate. A man must have at least 
thirty thousand friends scattered about the world, in order 
to find one alive and kicking on his arrival at Tangier. 

We paused with parted lips and wondering eyes, and 
saw enter the Secretary of the Consulate, and behind him 
beaming the open countenance of Couturier. Couturier, 
our host in Grenada, whom we left in the Place des Cu- 
chilleros, in front of the fatal house of Contrairas, from 
which fell the famous stone which came near substituting 
the Dumas dynasty for the Mahometan dynasty! Well! 
it was he ! he whom we then imagined had been swallowed 
up, and who was but an exile, and only, sooth to say, a 
voluntary exile ! 

Monsieur Duchâteau, our Consul at Tangier, knowing 
Couturier’s talent as a daguerreotypist, had asked him to go 
to Morocco. Couturier had taken his boxes and plates, 
and had hastened away. He had arrived two days after 
the departure of the Acheron, which was to carry him 
back, and he was then in momentary expectation of her 
return. He was already as familiar with Tangier as with 


28 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


Grenada, and took upon himself to do the honors of the 
place. 

The Secretary, Monsieur Florat, came to proffer his 
services. Tangier being one of the usual stations of 
the Veloce, the Captain and Monsieur Florat were old 
acquaintances. As it was at Tangier that the Captain had 
received orders to pick us up on the coast of Spain, it was 
surmised on shore, when the vessel was recognized in the 
offing, that he was bringing us; and this was why the 
report of our coming had spread in the city. Couturier 
had come with the intention of surprising us, and at a 
moment when, it must he admitted, he was far enough from 
our thoughts. 

Monsieur Florat was a great sportsman. I had heard 
much of the hunting in Africa. I inquired of him whether 
we could not arrange a hunt for the following day, or the 
day afterward. Boulanger and Giraud, who have never 
been good sportsmen, would, in case of our going, remain 
with Couturier, and accomplish wonders in the city with 
pencil and brush. 

A hunt in the interior of the country was something of an 
affair, especially for Christians. At last, however, I^Ionsieur 
Florat promised to make inquiries, and to let us know the 
result the next day. 

We all went up on deck. A Janissary, with a staff in 
one hand and a lantern in the other, had accompanied our 
guests. It is true that Consular agents are, like Deputies, 
inviolable in their persons, and, strictly speaking, might 
dispense with a Janissary ; but the fact is that they do not 
dispense with one. He who accompanied these gentlemen 
had a very wretched appearance, and, to judge by his dress, 
one would not have supposed that he fulfilled the duty of 
their protector, for they certainly would not have considered 
him clean enough for their servant. But what would you 


THE HARBOR OF TANGIER. 


29 


have? In Morocco one must do as the Moroccans do — the 
thing was so. Besides, he was a very honest fellow. If 
ever you go to Algiers, I ask you to patronize him. His 
name is El Arbi Bernat. So much for the name. He is 
blind of one eye. So much for a description. Ah! one 
more token, if the two tokens given do not suffice — ^he is 
an executioner. 

The gentlemen did not like to remain very late. As the 
representative of the French Government, Monsieur Florat 
could have had the gates opened for him at any hour, but 
he preferred not to avail himself of this privilege. 

At nine o’clock — I had, through habit, almost said strik- 
ing, forgetful that, on the coast of Africa, the hours roll 
silently by, and fall noiselessly into the void of eternity — 
these gentlemen left us. 

The sea much resembled that void in which, hours, 
months, and years are swallowed. The sky was dark. 
Some few stars shone in the heavens, and were. reflected in 
the depth of the ocean, whose surface had become invisible. 
Our vessel, like Mahomet’s coffin, seemed suspended and 
floating in mid-ether, in boundlessness. When our visitors 
descended the ladder, one might have thought that they 
were precipitating themselves into the bottomless abyss. 

But soon the light from the lantern shone on the boat, 
and gleamed over the water, revealing to us the bright 
eyes and the bare arms of the Moroccan oarsmen. Then 
the boat, like a swallow from a roof, darted from the vessel, 
and soon disappeared. For some moments the objects 
within the circle of light projected by the lantern remained 
visible ; then the circle became less and less, and soon it 
seemed but a Star detached from the heavens, and slowly 
gliding over the surface of the sea. At last, this star 
shook, flitted aimlessly to and fro like a will-o’-the-wisp, 
disappeared, reappeared, ascended a steep, disappeared 


30 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


again, reappeared once more, and suddenly seemed to be 
extinguished in the bowels of the earth. In all probability 
the gate of the city had just closed behind Monsieur Florat 
and his companions. 

By the way, it was remarkable that Tangier was the 
blackest point on the coast. One must have received a 
hint of the fact in order to enable one to suspect the exist- 
ence of a city there, and a city of seven thousand inhabit- 
ants. There was night, and the silence of the tomb. 

Behind us, on the contrary, on the sides of the circular 
mountain-range which forms the gulf, fires shone, and some 
cries resounded, not unlike human voices calling. These 
fires belonged to a few poor douars, invisible by daylight, 
concealed as they are in the brush five or six feet in height, 
forming, so to speak, the hide of the mountains. The cries 
were the wailings of hyenas. 

There is naught stranger than that certainty which we 
possess of being transported to a new and an unknown world, 
although none of our senses place us in absolute relation with 
that world. Scarcely has mind the power to convince the 
body when there, not perceiving any change about it ; and 
yet to it intelligence addresses itself thus : “ This day you 
left a friendly land, this evening you touched a hostile shore. 
Those fires which you see are lighted by a race of men 
hostile to your race, mortal enemies of you who never did 
them injury, and have no intention of ever inflicting it. 
The cries are those of ferocious animals — unknown in the 
land whence you came — ^^vhich, like the lion of Scrij)ture, 
roam about seeking whom they may devour.” 

Set foot in that country, and if you escape the wild beast 
you shall not escape man. And why ? * Because that 
country is separated from the other country by a sheet of 
water seven leagues broad ; because it is nearer to the equa- 
tor by a quarter of a degree ; because, in fine, it is called 


THE HAEBOE OF TANGIEE. 


31 


Africa, instead of being called Spain, Italy, Greece, 
Sicily. 

As Vial assured me that the moon would, not rise to re- 
lieve me of hiy doubts, I went to bed, requesting to be called 
at daybreak. 

I was very naturally awakened by the morning-watch 
engaged in washing the decks. I rose and clambered up 
the companion-way. 

It was just at the moment of dawn, when the night, 
which is about to fly, contends for a moment with the day. 
The vast basin in which we had passed the night, which 
basin forms a semircircle, reflected an indescribable light, 
and looked like a lake of molten silver in a setting of dark 
mountains. On the one side, in the faint morning light, 
appeared the town which crowns Cape Malabatta, whilst 
on the other, scarce distinguishable, opposite Cape Spartel, 
lay Tangier, yet asleep on the border of the sea. The fires 
still burned among the mountains, the last stars still twin- 
kled in the sky. 

Presently, a rosy mist seemed to come through the Straits, 
moving from east to west, gliding between Europe and 
Africa, and casting a tint of infinite softness and marvel- 
lous transparency over the whole coast of Spain, from the 
Sierra of San Mateo to Cape Trafalgar. In the light of 
this bright atmosphere, one could see the villages glisten, 
and even catch a glimpse of the scattered houses on the 
European coast. 

Soon — the sun still invisible — ^bright rays shot from be- 
hind the surrounding mountains ; but instead of streaming 
down they darted up, and one might have fancied that, after 
having struck the opposite slope, they were leaping over the 
mountain range. Little by little the light increased, losing 
its radiating form, to assume that of an immense globe of 
fire. At the very instant when the edge of the flaming 


32 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


orb appeared above Cape Malabatta, which remained of a 
bluish tint, the eastern slope of Cape Spartel lighted up, 
snatching Tangier from the shadow in which it had been 
plunged, and tracing its chalky silhouette between the 
golden sand of the beach and the verdant mountain crest. 
At the same time the sea began to take a rosy hue, in 
every portion which the sun’s rays could reach, whilst 
everywhere where the twilight or the night lingered, this 
tint gradually faded away to sulphur color, or sulphur 
color with the cold reflex of pewter. 

At last the sun rose victoriously in the sky, and, as 
Shakespeare says, morning, with feet .yet wet with dew, 
descended to the valley, after having poised for an instant 
on the mountain tops.* 

At this moment a caravan of a dozen camels, six or 
eight mules, and flve or six asses, emerged from a mountain- 
gorge, stretched out over the sand, and advanced toward 
Tangier, undulating like a serpent. 


“ And jocund day 

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.” 

Borneo and Juliet, Act III. Scene 5. 


THE FIRST ARAB. 


T ESS happy in our quality of Christians than the 
caravan, we could not enter Tangier until we had pro- 
cured a permit — that is to say, about nine o’clock in the 
morning. 

The Captain, while waiting for the prescribed time, pro- 
posed a fishing-party in the port. The sea belongs to every 
one ; as for the shore, it was our business to conquer it. 
The proposition, as you may easily conceive, was accepted 
with gratitude, not only by us but by the crew. It was 
joyfully received by the crew, because fishing is a twofold 
holiday to the sailor ; a holiday on account of the recrea- 
tion which it afibrds, a holiday on account of the fish which 
it brings along with it. Fish is an addition of fresh vic- 
tuals. Then, when the men have been wet for a couple of 
hours, how could any one refuse to supplement the fish with 
a glass of wine ? A captain must needs be barbarous, to 
let the outside get dry without warming up the inside a 
little. 

So, in an instant the whale-boat was ready, and the seine 
dragged from between-decks. The whole crew, with the 
exception of the men absolutely necessary aboard, received 
six hours’ leave. It was more time than was requisite. 

We got into the yawl with Vial, who led the expedition. 
Maquet and Kebec accompanied us. Each of us had a 
double-barrelled fowling-piece, and a dozen rifies had been 
B •» 33 


34 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


put aboard the whale-boat. Besides, if there should be 
occasion, the corvette could protect us with its cannon. 

At the moment when we were descending the starboard 
ladder, we perceived a boat approaching with lusty strokes, 
and making signals. As it was evident that she had 
special business with the Véloce, we waited. She was com- 
manded by our Janissary of the previous evening, El Arbi 
Bernat. Monsieur Florat, from the height of the terrace 
at the Consulate, had seen with a spy-glass our preparations 
for fishing, and had despatched him to us. It was market- 
day at Tangier; the shore would soon be covered with 
Arabs on their way to the city ; and he feared lest there 
might ensue a conflict between the burnooses *and the frock- 
coats. All this was explained, in bad Spanish, by El Arbi v 
Bernat ; who seemed happy and proud in the commission* 
with w'hich he had been entrusted. 

When our protector was installed in the bow of the yawl, 
the whistle of the boatswain gave the signal for departure. 
The perpendicular oars dropped, striking the water with a 
single blow, and our boat, leading the van, rowed toward 
the shore. 

I have mentioned that the Véloce often stopped at 
Tangier. Vial, therefore, was familiar with the port. He 
steered toward the mountain where the fires had been burn- 
ing, and behind which the sun had risen. I asked its 
name. It is called the Scharfi*. 

At the foot of the mountain,' to the right of ancient 
Tangier, the oued Echak flows into the sea. We directed 
our course toward the mouth of the stream. 

The tide was running down. AVe got into the very 
channel of the oued, but found it impossible to go up- 
stream. Our boat was heavily laden, and drew nearly 
three feet of w^ater. At last it touched bottom, and we 
>vere obliged to stop. 


THE FIRST ARAB. 


35 


AVe had not tried to land on the outside, because, although 
off-shore the sea was calm, the waves broke violently on the 
coast, and on approaching it, we should have run the risk 
of capsizing. 

T'wo sailors leaped into the water, without even taking 
the trouble to roll up their trousers, and offered their united 
shoulders to Vial, who placed himself as if on a side-saddle, 
took each man by the neckerchief, and guided them to 
the sliore, where they set him down without accident. Each 
of us in turn went by the same route, and by the same 
means. As for the yawl, which floated when relieved of 
our weight, they, always following the channel, continued 
to take her up-stream until she grounded again. This 
time, they did not concern themselves further about her. 
The stream, which contmued to decrease in size, would soon, 
on account of the ebb-tide, not have enough depth of water 
to enable them to shove her back to the sea. 

As for the whale-boat, she had not taken so many pre- 
cautions. She had sailed for the first point of the coast. 
At a certain distance, from shore, the sailors had dropped 
into the sea, like so many cormorants, and had run her up 
on the beach. 

At this moment a sea-swallow flew by. I sent a shot 
after it, and the wounded ‘bird fell on the other side of the 
oued. As I was approaching the bank, hesitating about 
taking to the water for game so paltry, I saw, rising from 
behind a sand dune, the end of a long gun, then the hood 
of a burnoose, then a bronzed face, then the whole body of 
a barelegged Arab. Doubtless, he thought that, the gun 
which he had heard had been fired by one of his country- 
men. Perceiving us, he stopped. 

I had never seen an Arab, save in the paintings of Dela- 
croix, or of Vernet, or in the drawings of Kaffet,jfOr of 
Decamps. This living representative of the African people, 


36 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


who gradually arose before me, and who, halting at sight 
of me, stood about thirty paces off, motionless, with gun 
on shoulder, and leg advanced, like a statue of Calm, or 
rather of Caution, produced upon me a deep impression. 
It was evident that, had I been alone, he w^ould not have 
had much respect for my rifle of eighteen inches in length, 
which would have seemed to him a toy compared with his 
gun of five feet. But I had at my back fifty men of my 
own race, dressed nearly like myself, and the odds made 
him consider. 

As we might have stood, each on his side of this new 
Rubicon, confronting each other until doomsday, without 
either of us making a step in advance, I called El Arbi 
Bernat, so that he might ask the^Arab to cross the oued, 
and, in crossing, to bring me my swallow. 

Our Janissary exchanged a few words with his country- 
man, upon which the Arab hesitated no longer, but picking 
up the bird, crossed the stream. 

While crossing, he looked at the swallow. It had- its 
wing broken, and a shot had passed through its breast. 
He handed me the bird, without saying anything, and 
continued on his way ; but as he passedÇnear Bernat, he 
addressed a few words to him. 

“ What does he say T’ I inquired. 

“He asks whether you shot the bird on' the wing/- 

“ And what did you reply ?” 

“I answered, ‘ Yes.^” 

“Was it on account of your reply, that he shook his 
head doubtfully ?” 

“It was.” 

“ He does not believe it, then ?” 

“Not much.” 

“ Do you know him ?” 

“Yes.” 



Motionless, with gun on shoulder, and leg advanced, like a statue of 
Calm, or rather of Caution, he produced upon me a deep impression. 

Page 


t 


0 


\ 






« 


THE FIRST ARAB. 


37 


“ Is he a good shot ?” 

“ He has the reputation of being one of the best shots in 
this district.” 

Call him back, then.” 

The Janissary called him back. The Arab returned 
more eagerly than I had expected. It was evident that he 
had been going away reluctantly, and that he had a keen 
desire to take a nearer look at us, or rather at our arms. 
He stopped at the distance of five paces from me, — ^grave 
and motionless. Giraud and Boulanger, who, with pencil 
in hand, were following him, also stopped. He was, as in 
my case, the first Arab that they had ever seen; and 
judging from their anxiety to sketch him, one might 
have thought that they feared lest they might never find 
another. 

“ Here is a Frenchman,” said the Janissary, indicating 
me, “ who says that he can beat you shooting.” 

A slight smile contracted the lips of the Arab. 

“ He killed this bird on the wing, and he says that you 
cannot do as much,” resumed the Janissary. 

“ I will do as inuch,” said the Arab. 

“ Very well ! that’s just what we want,” continued the 
Janissary ; “hold, here comes a bird, fire at it and kill it.” 

“The Frenchman did not kill his with a bullet,” re- 
marked the Arab. 

“ No,” replied the Janissary. 

“ What does he say ?” I inquired. 

“ He says that you did not kill your bird with a bullet.” 

“ That is true, here is shot.” 

I handed him a charge of number-five shot. He shook 
his head, and said some words. 

“ He says that powder is dear, and that there are too 
many hyenas and panthers about, to waste powder on 
birds.” 


4 


38 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“ Tell him that I will give him six charges of powder for 
every shot that he fires in his match with me.” 

The Janissary communicated my ofier to the Arab. 
During this time, Giraud and Boulanger were sketching 
for dear life. 

One could see that the desire of gaining thirty or forty 
charges of powder, without loosening his purse-strings, con- 
tended in the Arab’s bosom with the fear of not worthily 
sustaining his reputation? At last cupidity won the day. 
He drew his gun-wad, then drew the ball, and held out his 
hand for me to pour into it a charge of shot. I hastened 
to comply with what was indicated by the gesture. The 
charge having been rammed home, he examined the prim- 
ing and stood expectantly. 

He had not long to wait. All this portion of the African 
coast abounds in game. A plover passed over our heads. 
The Arab took a long aim, and thinking that he had 
covered the bird, fired. It continued its flight without the 
loss of a single feather. 

A snipe rose at the report, and passed within range. I 
knocked it over. The Arab smiled. 

“The Frenchman shoots well,” said he, “but it is not 
with shot that a true sportsman shoots, it is with ball.” 

The Janissary translated the words to me. 

“ True,” I replied. “ Tell him that I am exactly of his 
opinion, and that if he himself will choose the mark, I will 
engage to do what he can do.” 

“ The Frenchman owes me six charges of powder,” said 
the Arab. 

“ True again,” I replied. “ Let the Arab hold out his hand.” 

He held out his hand, and I emptied into it nearly the 
third of my powder-flask. He produced his receptacle of 
horn, into which he poured the powder to the very last 
grain, with a care and an address which savored of respect. 


THE FIRST ARAB. 


39 


This operation finished, it was evident that our man would 
have liked nothing better than to depart. But that did 
not agree with the views of Giraud and Boulanger, who 
had not finished their sketches. So, at the first movement 
that he made, I said to El Arbi Bernat, “ Remind your 
countryman that we have each a ball to send in some 
direction, wherever he may wish.” 

“Yes,” replied the Arab. He glanced around him, and 
discovered a sort of lath lying on the ground. He picked 
it up, and began to search again. 

I had in my pocket a letter from one of my nephews, 
employed on the private domain of His Majesty. This 
letter slept peaceably in its square envelope ornamented 
with a red seal. I handed it to the Arab, suspecting a 
letter, or something similar, to be what he was seeking. In 
fact, this letter made an excellent target. The Arab 
understood. He split the end of the lath with his knife, 
inserted the letter, went off to plant the lath in the sand, 
and returned toward us, pacing twenty-five yards. 

The Arab loaded his gun. I had, ready-loaded, a double- 
barrelled rifle. It was an excellent piece, made by De- 
visme. It had in each barrel a conical ball, with which 
one can kill a man at the distance of fifteen hundred 
metres. I took it from the hand of Paul, who was its 
usual keeper, and waited. 

The Arab sighted with a carefulness which proved the im- 
portance which he attached to hot being defeated a second 
time. He fired, and his ball clipped one of the corners of 
the envelope. Impassive as the Arabs are, this one could 
not avoid uttering a shout of joy as he pointed to the 
clipped corner of the envelope. I made a sign to him that 
I saw it very well. He then addressed some words to me 
with a quick utterance. 

“ He says that it is your turn,” interpreted the* Janissary. 


40 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“Yes, certainly,” I answered; “but tell him that, in 
France, we do not shoot at a target at so short a distance.” 
I measured double the distance. He watched me with 
astonishment. 

“Now,” continued I, “tell him, that, at the first shot, I 
shall hit the mark nearer the centre than he did, and that 
at the second, I shall cut in two the stick which supports it.” 

I sighted with great care. It was not the thing to come 
to Africa to leave there a false impression. I had an- 
nounced the programme, it was my business to carry it out. 
The first shot touched the wax. The second followed 
almost immediately, and broke the lath. 

The Arab threw his gun on his shoulder, and resumed his 
interrupted route, without claiming the six charges of pow- 
der to which he was entitled. It was clear that he departed, 
crushed with the weight of his inferiority, and that, at the 
moment, he doubted everything, even the Prophet. He 
follow^ed the sweeping shore which led to Tangier, and 
reached the city, I feel sure, without having once looked 
back. 

Two or three Arabs who, during these proceedings, had 
crossed the oued, and had been present at the contest, 
walked away as silent and almost as terror-stricken as he. 
The whole of Morocco was humiliated in the person of its 
representative. 


HUNTING AND FISHING. 


I^E AN WHILE, the plan of fishing had been settled, 
and the men were beginning to draw the seine. 

Fishing with the seine is of all kinds of fishing the most 
exciting. The number of persons engaged in drawing the 
seine, the area which it embraces, the unexpectedness of the 
result, create a pasëion which I can comprehend better than 
that for fishing with the hook and line; although the latter 
places the skill of man face to face with the instinct of the 
animal, and is, so to speak, a contest between civilization 
and nature. 

TVhilst our men, up to their necks in water, and encour- 
aging each other with shouts, exerted themselves to their 
utmost in drawing the seine, the market-hour approached, 
and the shore, solitary on our arrival, became peopled with 
Arabs coming from the neighboring goums, and going to 
the city. 

This long procession of people, following the sea-shore, 
and walking with intervals between them, but invariably 
keeping the same track, was a strange sight. It was com- 
posed of sellers going to Tangier. But such sellers ! And 
what a singular idea they would have given you of African 
trade ! One was a dealer in charcoal, and carried in his 
hands three or four pieces of blackened wood; another was 
a dealer in bricks, and carried ten or twelve bricks ; an- 
other was a dealer in fowls, and carried two pigeons lying 


42 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


on Ms arm, a hen hanging at his back, and a switch, with 
the aid of which he made a turkey walk before him. 

Some drove before them asses of the smallest size, carry- 
ing loads of wood or of vegetables. These were the repre- 
sentatives of the wholesale trade in Morocco. He who 
would have the largest receipts, certainly could not have 
counted on a return of thirty sous, and some did not carry 
more than two or three sous’ worth of goods. 

And all these things came from a distance of three, four, 
six, ten leagues ; with whole families — ^^vomen, children, 
old men. ♦ There were women with huge bonnets of straw, 
made as if the centre of a circular straw-mat had been 
adjusted to the top of the head ; children dragged along or 
carried pick-a-back by their mothers, who, in addition to 
their progeny, also carried fowls, or else bricks ; old men 
with beautiful white beards, walking with the aid of staffs, 
or mounted on asses, and having the appearance of ancient 
patriarchs repairing to some modern Jerusalem. As for 
the faces of the women, there was no chance to see them. 
Fortunately, it was very nearly certain that, putting out of 
the question our ungratified curiosity, we did not lose much.^ 

All these ragged, tattered people, draping their naked- 
ness with scanty covering, were superb. Never did purple- 
clad emperor raise his head with loftier dignity, as, enter- 
ing Eome on the triumphal car, he passed along the Via 
Sacra in his ascent to the Capitol. This is because, with 
them, dignity resides in man, that image of God ; and not 
in the rank which he occupies, not in the garb in which he 
is clothed. In his country, the Arab is a sultan, as an 
emperor is emperor in his empire ; and when he has been 
twice a week to the market at Tangier, Fez, or Tetuan, to 
sell his charcoal, his bricks, or his fowls ; when from the 
sale he has made enough for the support of his family until 
next market-day, he asks no more, he desires no more, he 


HUNTING AND FISHING. 


43 


has no further ambition. It is not the misery of the body, 
it is the degradation of the soul, that effaces from the fore- 
head of man, bowing it toward the earth, the divine seal 
impressed on it by God himself. 

The greater part of these men passed without stopping, 
without looking at us — one might almost say, without seeing 
us. Some stopped to answer the questions of our Janissary, 
and Giraud and Boulanger profited by the opportunity to 
include them in their sketch-books. Two or three, perceiv- 
ing that their likenesses were being stolen, got angry and 
walked away muttering. Others, and these were generally 
young people, stopped, took an interest in the sketches, 
and shouted with laughter on seeing themselves reproduced 
on paper. 

On the opposite side of the bay, caravans of camels and 
mules, reduced to our sight to the proportions of swarms of 
big ants walking single file, continued to enter Tangier. 

The seine had been drawn twice on the shore. The fish- 
ing, without being very poor, did not promise to be miracu- 
lous. We left our sailors to haul the seine for the third 
time, and Boulanger and Giraud to sketch to their hearts’ 
content, while we — Vial, Maquet and I — went to try our 
luck at hunting. Paul followed us to act as interpreter. 

Since morning I had perceived with joy that Chevet had 
not, in one particular at least, deceived me by recommend- 
ing Paul to me, and that he was a real Arab. Save a little 
accent which marked the difference between the two lan- 
guages, Paul could make himself understood very well by 
those to whom he had talked. 

After an hour’s hunt, after having killed three or four 
plover, and five or six snipe, we saw the signal for our re- 
call being hoisted on the mainmast of the Véloce. It 
had been agreed with the Captain, that this flag should be 
hoisted from ten to eleven o’clock, and should announce the 


44 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


serving of breakfast. We at once joined the crew. There 
were four large bucketfuls of fresh fish of the most appe- 
tizing appearance imaginable. 

It was necessary to reëmbark, which was not an easy 
matter. The waves accompanying the flood-tide were much 
heavier, and, above all, much noisier than those of the ebb- 
tide had been. Our sailors, who for three hours had been 
up to their necks in water, troubled themselves little on ac- 
count of this accident, but it was not so with us. 

Several methods of embarking were proposed. The first, 
to make the trip on the shoulders of the sailors; the second, 
to try to reach the boat by rolling up our trousers ; the 
third, to strip and accomplish the distance by s'wimming. 
The first method was adopted. Vial set the example by 
leading the van. 

At ten paces from the boat, a wave upset the human 
pyramid. Lieutenant and sailors disappeared, to reappear 
immediately. Vial taking his course toward the boat, the 
sailors returning to place themselves at our disposal. 

The example was not very enticing. Nevertheless Gi- 
raud faced the second trial. Some sea-nymph was doubt- 
less smitten with Giraud, for he reached the boat safe and 
sound. 

Desbarolles came next, and escaped with a few splashes; 
but Boulanger, Maquet, and I would not listen to making 
the attempt. Boulanger skilfully took advantage of what, 
in sailor’s language, is called a lull. If you do not know 
what a lull is, consult the Maritime Dictionary of Admiral 
Willaumez, which for some days past had been our breviary 
— Boulanger, I say, taking advantage of a lull, entrusted 
his pantaloons to a sailor, and raising his frock-coat, ad- 
vanced toward the yawl, with the cautious air of a young 
boarding-school miss attempting her first forward-two at a 
family party. Old Ocean saw in this modest carriage 


HUNTING AND FISHING. 


45 


homage rendered to his power, and he was kind to Bou- 
langer. Maquet and I swam aboard. ^V^e were all as- 
sembled. We row^ed toward the Veloce. 

A.n excellent breakfast was awaiting us. It was rein- 
forced by a fry, to which honor was done by Messieurs 
Florat and Couturier, associated guests, whom we found 
aboard, where they had come to meet us. 

Impelled by curiosity to see the city, we breakfasted in 
haste. As I have said, it was market-day at Tangier, and 
the market would be over by one o’clock. 

Good though it may be, there is no house so well-ordered 
as a government vessel. On a government vessel, Louis the 
Fourteenth would not have even come near waiting, and 
one of the most characteristic mots of the ancient monarchy 
would still be unuttered, which is as much as to say that 
in all probability it never would be uttered. 

The whale-boat rocked at the foot of the ladder. In an 
instant we were seated in it. The oars fell, and we rowed 
toward Tangier. 




THE JEW OF THE EAST. 


I N proportion to our approach to the city, which, at first, 
had appeared like a chalky mass, it began to appear 
divided into compartments, and to present its details. 

What first struck the eye of a stranger was the quarter 
where the Consulates were, close to each other, and recog- 
nizable by their flags. At the top of high flag-stafis 
floated the banners of England, Spain, Portugal, Holland, 
Sweden, Sardinia, Naples, the United States, Denmark, 
Austria, and France. All the rest of the city presented a 
uniform aspect, only two towers overtopping the general 
level of the houses, which were one-storied and terraced. 
These two towers were the Casbah and the Mosque — -the 
palace of the Sultan, and the House of God. 

As we were disembarking, the muezzin was calling the 
Faithful to prayer, and his voice, full, sonorous, and com- 
manding, — as should be the voice of every expounder of a 
religion sprung from the sword, — after having swept over 
the city, reached our ears. 

The port proper was almost empty. Two or three 
Spanish vessels were taking in a cargo : that was all. The 
crews were talking with the Moroccans, with the aid of the 
Sabir dialect, that singular compound of Greek, Italian, and 
French, with which one can make the tour of the Medi- 
terranean. 

About twenty Arab porters were on the jetty, engaged in 
46 * 


THE JEW OF THE EAST. 


4f 

taking an old vessel to pieces. Among them, and evi- 
dently waiting for our whalé-boat, stood a man of thirty- 
five or forty years of age, of middle height, pale complexion, 
marked features, quick and intelligent eye. He had his 
hair cut short, he wore a black skull-cap, and a long frock- 
coat of the same color, fastened around his waist 'with a 
scarf, which was faded by age, but which must formerly 
have been of charming stufi*. He extended his hand to aid 
us all in leaping from the whale-boat to the shore. Then, 
when we were all ashore, he, with an air of authority, which 
a friendly smile from Monsieur Florat explained tor the 
spectators, took precedence even of the Janissary, and 
marched at the head of the column, shoutings “Make 
way ! Make way !’’ 

A Moroccan military guard posted on our route, seeing 
us accompanied by a Janissary, and taking us for people 
of importance, saluted us in passing. 

We mounted the ramp, and then all the gyrations 
which we had seen the lantern make on the preceding even- 
ing were explained. 

Tangier has the pretension of being a fortified city, and 
consequently it has a show of walls, and some appearance 
of a covered-way; but the walls are falling, and the 
covered-way is entirely uncovered. 

At the end of this ramp, opens the gate, low, thick, 
arched with broad ogives, guarded by a ragged soldier car- 
rying a gun with gilded bands and a stock encrusted with 
ivory. The gate gives entrance to a street, narrow, uneven, 
lined with white-washed houses, without other openings on 
the street than the openings formed by the doors. 

At intervals, a large niche is placed right in the middle 
of one of these houses, and a man enveloped in a white 
burnoose, or draped in a cloak, lay there smoking with so 
great gravity and importance, that nothing in the world 


48 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


could have induced me to disturb him in his occupation. 
This man, at whose feet we perceived scales, and beside 
whom were heaped a kind of pigeon-holes filled with 
shapeless objects, was a grocer, or a fruiterer, or a butcher. 

Some men walked gravely along the street. They 
generally had bare legs and a simple red skull-cap. 
Others standing, like stone-ware statues leaning against 
a wall, luxuriated in the sun’s rays of the temperature 
of eighty-six to ninety-five degrees of the thermometer,* 
although it was in the month of November. Others 
again, were seated tailor-fashion, and with their heads 
thrown back, fingered in silent prayer the beads of an 
Arab chaplet. Now and then a figure squatting on a ter- 
race arose, and leaped upon another terrace. It was a 
Moroccan woman going to pay a visit to her neighbor. 

One could hear a great uproar coming from the centre 
of the city. It was the market in full blast. . 

When we came opposite the French Consulate, Monsieur 
Florat left us, saying to the man in black, “You under- 
stand, David ; I commend these gentlemen to your care.” 

David made a sign of acquiescence. Then turning to us, 
Monsieur Florat said : “ Whatever you wish for, inquire of 
David.” 

We made a gesture conveying our thanks. It was a 
bargain on both sides. Approaching me. Monsieur Florat 
said : “ This man is a Jew. His name is David Azencot. 
He is a naval purveyor. If you have, perchance, a draft 
of a hundred thousand francs on him, he will pay you at 
sight, and probably in gold. Au revoir, at the Consulate.” 

I turned with curiosity toward David. The Jew of the 
East was at last before me. 

* In the original, the degrees given are those of the Centigrade 
thermometer, and in the translation, those of the Fahrenheit ther- 
mometer. The same change is made elsewhere. 


THE JEW OF THE EAST. 


49 


Among us, the Jew no longer exists as a type. He is 
lost in society. He has nothing which distinguishes him 
from other men, either in his air or in his costume. He is 
an officer of the Legion of Honor, he is an academician, 
he is a baron, he is a prince, he is a king. 

The history of Jewish greatness in modern society would 
be a strange one to write. The Jew is the genius who suc- 
ceeds the dragons of Calchas, the Hesperides, the Nibelun- 
gen. It was he who in the Middle- Ages Avas the guardian of 
gold — of gold, that great power of all ages, that divinity 
of some ! There are men Avho disbelieve in God, none who 
disbelieve in gold. 

Look at Aristophanes. According to him, gold is called 
Plutus, Avho is Jove — more than Jove. He is the anti- 
Jupiter, the king of the king of Olympus. Without him, 
Jupiter is forced to confess that he dies of hunger. Mer- 
cury abdicates his divinityship, Avhich brings no profit to 
him, the prince of thieves, — and becomes the 
servant of the god of gold. Apollo in exile tended flocks. 
Mercury did more. He turned the spit, and washed the 
dishes of Plutus. 

* Look at Christopher Columbus. After his fourth voy- 
age, what does he write to Ferdinand and Isabella, his 
timid protectors, on whom he had bestowed a world — and 
what a Avorld !— Peru. He Avrites : Gold is an excellent 
thing. With gold one can amass treasures, Avith gold one 
can accomplish Avhatever he Avishes in this Avorld.” ' 

Look at the ansAver of Monsieur Pellapra, Avhen, in the 
year of grace 1847, he Avas questioned by the High Chan- 
cellor. 

What is your name ?” asked the latter. 

“ I am worth tAA^elve millions.” 

“ What is your age ?” 

I tell you that I am worth twelve millions.” 

5 C 


50 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“ Your profession ?” 

“ Why, do you not understand ? I repeat, I am worth 
twelve millions.” 

How well the Jew has comprehended that! Whilst the 
sorcerer,' the necromancer, the alchemist sought gold, he 
found it. For he comprehended, he — I do not say the 
man of the tenth century, for the Jew was then less than 
a man— comprehended that he, the unclean thing, who 
dared not touch either food or woman, lest he might he 
burned to death ; — ^who, at Toulouse was cuffed three times 
a year for having delivered the city to the Saracens ; — ^who 
at Beziers was stoned during all Holy Week; — ^who was the 
scape-goat upon whom all the world spat ; ^who might be 
sold for a slave, tanquam proprium servum, as the ordinance 
of 1230 had it;— he had comprehended that, with gold, he 
could reconquer all that he had lost, and that, in his lowly 
walk, patient and progressive, he could reach a higher pin- 
nacle than the one from which he had fallen. 

Then, when he had obtained gold, that did not suffice. 
Lavoisier attempted to Volatilize the diamond. The Jew 
has discovered how to volatilize gold. The diamond vola- 
tilized, Lavoisier was in for the value of it. Gold vola- 
tilized, and there remains to the Jew the bill of exchange, 
which has the value of gold, besides the discount. 

Michelet, that great historian, who has but one fault, — 
that of being a still greater poet than historian, — read in 
October, 1834, in an English newspaper : “ To-day, the 
money-market is dull. It is a holiday among the Jews.” 

So in England, as well as in France, the Jews have as- 
cended the throne of gold. And it is but justice, for they 
have won it by a struggle lasting through eighteen centuries. 
Patient, inflexible, their success was certain. 

It must be acknowledged that the Jew has a great ad- 
vantage over the Christian. The Christian lends gold, but 


THE JEW OF THE EAST. 


51 


the Jew sells it. Go seek the Jew. His terms .are made 
in advance. They are unchangeable, but they are clear. 
You can take them or let them alone. He is always ex- 
tortionate, but he never deceives you, never robs you. Keep 
your engagements and he will keep his. But keep them 
faithfully, or else take care of yourself! A pound of your 
flesh, says Shy lock; — a pound of your fle^h that I am 
going to feed with my money;— a pound of your beautiful 
flesh, if to-morrow you do not pay me ten thousand ducats.* 
Pay! pay! or he will take your flesh; and it is just. It was 
not he, my dear Antonio, who came to tempt you ; it was 
not he who came to you to say ; “ Pledge me your flesh in 
exchange for my money.” It was you who sought him, and 
said to him: “Lend me your money, and I will give you 
whatever you demand as security.” He asked you for your 
flesh. It was your business not to sign the contract. But 
you did sign it, and now your flesh belongs to him. And 
the Christians who imprison their debtors in Clichy ! — it is 
not a pound of flesh that they take, it is the whole body ! 

It is true that, in proportion as one strays from the cen- 
tre of civilization, the Jew, little by little, descends from his 
commercial throne, and becomes humble, submissive, timor- 
ous. It is from St. Petersburg to Odessa, from Tangier to 
Cairo, that one must look for the ancient Jew. It has re- 
quired the knout of the autocrat and the cudgel of the 
sultan to keep him in his humility. Look also at the Jew 
of Algiers and Constantinople. 

At Tangier — Tangier which dwells under the sceptre of 
the thrice happy Sultan Abd el Ehaman, until it shall 
dw^ell under that of the glorious Emir, Abd el Kader — the 
Jews are obliged to take ofl* their shoes when they pass the 
Mosque. 

It is true that, Thanks to his title of Kaval Purveyor, 


* Three thousand ducats. 


52 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


David Azencot was at Tangier a privileged person, and 
one of his great, privileges was to pass the Mosque in his 
blue stockings and laced shoes. So he took us a very round- 
about way, so as to let us see him .use his privilege. Poor 
fellow ! perhaps he would have paid dearly for this strange 
favor if we had not bombarded Tangier, and won the battle 
of Isly. However, whilst awaiting a reverse in the surpris- 
ing good fortune which he was then enjoying, he conducted 
us to the market-place by the way of the Mosque. W e at 
length reached that long-wished-for spot, and found again 
our charcoal and fowl-dealers that we had met on the sea- 
shore. 

I know not who first said that the Arabs are grave and 
silent. Grave they are, but silent they are not. I do not 
know anything noisier than an Arab market. This mar- 
ket made din enough to split one’s head. 

Lying in an enclosure near the market, were mingled 
together camels and mules, almost as grave as their mas- 
ters, but much more silent than they. From time to time, 
doubtless when some well-known voice reached it, a camel 
raised its long serpent-like neck, and uttered a shrill cry 
that has no resemblance to the voice of any other animal. 

This spectacle put Giraud and Boulanger in raptures. 
They had stationed themselves in the midst of the fig- 
merchants and date-merchants, covering their sketch-books 
with drawings, each one more picturesque than the last. 

All these things, dates, figs, and other provisions, were 
sold, or rather given away, at prices ridiculous to us 
Europeans. With an income of five hundred francs, one 
ought to live in Tangier like a prince. 

We met the cook of the Veloce, who was doing his 
marketing. He was cheapening some red partridges. 
They were offered to him for four sous apiece, at which he 
exclaimed ; saying that the country was getting worse and^ 


THE JEW OF THE EAST. 


53 


worse every day, and that, if this continued, it would he 
impossible to stand it. 

At one o’clock precisely, the market was over. Ten 
minutes afterward, the place was completely deserted, and 
children, most of whom were as naked as the palm of my 
hand, hunted among the leavings to try to find a fig, a 
date, or a raisin. 

I had asked to be shown some bazaar or other, where I 
might buy sashes, burnooses, haiks, and all those things 
which I had seen my friends bring back from Africa ; and 
every time that I had asked David where I could find such 
or such a thing, he had answered in his soft voice, the accent 
of which verged slightly on the Italian : “ Chez moi, mon- 
èou, chez moi.” 

“ Come on then to your house,” said I, in answer to his last 
response. “ Come on,” said David. So we set out toward 
his house. 

I should find it very difficult to describe to you the 
situation of this house. In the first place, the Moors do not 
name their streets. I know that we went down the market- 
place, that we took a little street to the right, that we 
ascended a pavement slippery with water from a fountain, 
and that finally we reached a carefully-fastened door, at 
which David rapped in a peculiar manner. 

A woman of thirty years of age opened the door. She 
wore a turban on her head, like the women of the Bible. 
It was Madam Azencot. 

Two or three young girls, concealing themselves behind 
each other, huddled in the opening of an interior door, oppo- 
site to the one by which we entered the house. 

The court-yard was of the usual shape. It was a little 
square with a staircase alongside of the wall, leading to a 
gallery. From this gallery opened *doors leading into 
chambers. One of these chambers formed a curiosity shop, 


54 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


and was especially devoted to stuffs. Scarfs of all colors, 
haiks of all sizes, carpets of all shades, were heaped on 
tables, thrown over the arms of easy-chairs, or spread on 
the floor. On the wall were hung cartridge-boxes of 
morocco, sabre-scabbards of copper, poniards of silver. 
Above all this mass, immense guns, mounted with silver 
encrusted with coral, protruded their barrels of rough iron. 

Maquet and I paused for an instant, amazed at the sight 
of all these riches. I say Maquet and I, because Giraud 
and Boulanger had gone with Paul and the Janissary to 
visit the Casbah. 

David still preserved his humble demeanor. He had 
not grown taller by a hair’s breadth on finding himself 
amidst all these treasures, which were his, and which would 
not have been unsuitable for the bazaar of one of those 
merchants of the “Arabian Nights” who arrive from the end 
of the world, to become the lover of some favorite sultana 
or veiled princess. 

I felt in my pockets, and perceived my money shaking 
with fear. I did not dare at first to ask the price of any 
of these things. It seemed to me that a kingdom could 
hardly purchase them. However, I ventured to inquire the 
price of a white silk scarf wiih broad golden stripes. 

“ Forty francs,” David replied. 

I made him. repeat the words twice. At the second repe- 
tition I breathed again. Alas ! There is a proverb which 
says, “ Nothing ruins so quickly as good bargains.” It was 
about to receive verification in the most liberal sense of the 
term. Tli^e good bargains of David ruined me. 

In fact, from the moment when I had asked the price of 
everything, I wanted everything. Sabres, poniards, bur- 
nooses, scarfs, slippers, boots,^ame-bags, everything* ontrib- 
uted a sample. Then, at last, I began to ask for what I 
did not see in David’s house, for what I had seen in collec- 


THE JEW OF THE EAST. 


55 


tions or in paintings ; — ^plates of chased copper, ewers of 
marvellous shape, coffers of mother-of-pearl, double-bot- 
tomed lamps, tobacco-boxes, chibouques, nargiles, w^hat 
not. At every fresh demand, David, without evincing, sur- 
prise, and with the same humble and timid air, left the 
house, and five minutes afterward appeared with the desired 
article. One would have said that he had that enchanfed 
purse which Tieck bestows on Fortunatus, and which our poor 
Charles Nodier, of poetic memory, lends to Peter Schlemihl. 

At last I was ashamed to ask for so many things for my- 
self only ; not to mention that I was almost frightened at 
seeing my desires gratified with this strange facility. And 
thinking of my poor friends who were roasting in the sun 
in the court-yard of the Casbah, I remembered having seen 
at Delacroix’s house, on his return from Morocco, the por- 
trait of an adorable Jewish woman; and it occurred to me, 
what a subject for rejoicing it w^ould be to them if they 
could make some drawings from such a model. However, 
this time, the thing appeared to me so difiicult to obtain 
that I hesitated. 

“Well,” said David, observing that I was looking around 
me, like a man who is seeking something. 

“Well,” answered I, “my dear David — that is all.” 

“ No,” said he, “ it is not all.” 

“ How is it not all ?” 

“ What do you desire — speak ?” 

“ My dear David, probably I desire the impossible.” 

“ Tell it all the same — ^who knows ?” 

“ So be it^ — at a venture.” 

“ I am all attention,” said David. 

“ I have among the number of my friends,” said I, “ a 
very great artist, who, about twelve years ago, came to 
Tangier wdth another one of my friends. Monsieur, the 
Count de Mornay.” 


66 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


“ Oh yes ! Monsieur Delacroix.” 

“ What, David ! do you know Delacroix ?” 

“ He did me the honor to visit my poor home.” 

“Very well! He made a little painting of a Jewish 
woman dressed in her most beautiful attire.” 

“ I know it. That woman was my sister-in-law, Rachel.” 

*“ Your sister-in-law, David !” 

“Yes, monsieur.” 

“Well, but is this sister-in-law still living?” 

“ God has spared her to us.” 

“And would she consent to sit to Giraud and Boulanger, 
as she sat to Delacroix ? She possessed wonderful beauty.” 

“ She is fifteen years older than she was at that time.” 

“ Oh, that is of no consequence, my dear David. Make 
love to her for me, and induce her to sit.” 

“ There is no need of that, I can offer you something 
better.” 

“ Something better than your sister-in-law, Rachel !” 

“I have my cousin Molly. She happens to be here. 
She usually resides in Tarifa. But you must make haste, 
as I believe that she is going to-morrow.” 

“ And will your cousin consent ?” 

“ Go for your two friends at the Casbah. I will furnish 
you with a guide, and on your return — ” 

“ Well ! on my return ?” 

“You shall find Molly in full dress.” 

* “ In truth, my dear David, you are a wonderful man.” 

“ I am doing what I can to be agreeable to you ; you 
must excuse me if I cannot do better, or do more. Tt is 
my duty, for Monsieur Florat commended you to my care.” 

Before I had recovered from my surprise, David had 
called his brother, and had directed him to conduct me to 
the Casbah. 

At the moment when we were entering the court-yard 


THE JEW OF THE EAST. 


57 


where Giraud and Boulanger were engaged sketching, an 
old Moorish woman raised her hands to lieayen with a 
violent gesture, and uttered some words of prayer or of 
menace, the tone of which attracted my attention. 

“What does the woman say?” I inquired of David’s 
brother. 

“ She says, (O God ! how cruelly we must have offended 
thee, that thou shouldst permit these dogs of Christians 
to come draw the palace of the sublime emperor.)” 

' The invocation was not polite, but, as the Moroccans 
have never been renowned for their hospitality, I did not 
think it worth while to pay her much attention. Conse- 
quently, I went right up fo our two sketchers. Chance 
willed it that, as I approached them, they were tying up 
their portfolios. 

“Come on, come on, gentlemen,” said I, “you are im- 
patiently expected at Monsieur David’s.” 

“And by whom?” asked they, with one accord. 

“You shall see — come.” 

Usually my companions had great confidence in me, so 
they followed me without hesitation. Five minutes after- 
ward we reentered David’s house, and on opening the 
door, we all exclaimed with one voice in admiration. 

An adorable Jewish girl, resplendent with youth, daz- 
zling in beauty, and sparkling with rubies, sapphires, and 
diamonds, was seated on the sofa which had lately been 
covered with scarfs, shawls, and stuffs, which had been 
removed for her convenience. 

From Boulanger’s drawing, her portrait has been en- 
graved by Geoffroy, under the not very Jewish name of 
Molly. 

C* 


THE BOAR-HUNT. 


J UST as Giraud and Boulanger were finishing their 
sketches, and after poor Molly, with the patience of an 
angel, had sat for two or three hours. Monsieur Florat ap- 
peared on the gallery. He came to accompany us in mak- 
ing our visit to the Consulate. 

On the way, we were attracted by a strange noise. In 
proportion to our advance along the street, the noise in- 
creased. It resembled the sound of the surf rolling in with 
the tide on the pebbly beach of Dieppe, the swelling mur- 
mur of millions of bees, the croaking of an infinite number 
of frogs. 

We approached with curiosity, and stuck our heads 
through a doorway. It was a Moorish school. A very 
simple and primitive school indeed ; a school without paper, 
ink, or pen ; containing merely the first elements of a school 
— a master and his scholars. 

The master was seated cross-legged, leaning against a 
wall. The scholars were seated cross-legged, forming a 
semi-circle around the master. The master held in his hand 
a long wand, like a fishing-pole. With this, used as a 
switch, he could without any efibrt reach the most distant 
scholar. 

The scholars held in their hands Arab chaplets. They 
repeated verses of the Koran. To this study was limited 
their education in the humanities. 


68 


THE BOAE-HUNT. 


59 


One who knows by heart twenty verses of the Koran is 
a Bachelor of Arts, one who knows fifty is a Bachelor of 
Sciences, one who knows a hundred is a taleb. A taleb 
is a savant. 

When a scholar hesitated, or made a mistake, he received 
a blow from the switch, whereupon there arose a shrill and 
universal buzz. 

We would have devoted a longer time to the study of this 
model school, had not the master — fearing, perhaps, lest 
the scrutiny of Christians might have a sinister influence 
on the young Believers whose souls were confided to his 
care — sent one of his pupils to shut the door in our faces. 

This door was remarkably pretty, and, in truth, much 
more agreeable to the sight than that wretched school, 
tenanted by little monsters with big heads and lank bodies. 
It was of cedar, arched with the Moorish ogive, all orna- 
mented with great studs of copper, among which ran thou- 
sands of little studs, like those with which our upholsterers 
tack gimp on furniture. These little studs formed all sorts of 
designs. And a singular thing was that the designs form- 
ing the greater number of these arabesques, represented the 
Cross and the Lilies; those religious and political symbols, 
which, during eight centuries, have incessantly precipitated 
the West on the East. 

The door having been examined, admired, and sketched, 
we continued on our way. 

Messieurs Roche and Duchateau were absent. Mon- 
sieur Duchâteau had gone, as I have mentioned, to carry 
presents from the King, Louis Philippe, to the Emperor, 
Abd el Rhaman. Monsieur Roche had accompanied him. 

In the absence of these gentlemen, the Consulate was^ 
represented by delightful substitutes. Madame Roche and 
Mademoiselle Florence Duchâteau received us with charm- 
ing grace. It is true that, to the account of this kind 


GO 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


welcome, Ave must put the pleasure Avliich two poor exiles 
must have enjoyed in seeing their compatriots. Tangier is 
not a city of fashion : far from it ; and I can well believe 
that it is a hard trial for two female Parisians to live there. 

Monsieur Florat had communicated to them our desire 
of getting up a boar-hunt, and they had had the kindness 
to try to effect the realization of our desire. 

You will be surprised to learn that persons belonging to 
the’^ gentler sex were those entrusted with making arrange- 
ments for a hunt. But you must knoAV that one cannot 
hunt in the vicinity of Tangier, as he can in the plain of 
Saint Denis ; that obtaining permission to do so Avas a very 
delicate negotiation to conduct; and that there is nothing 
equal to Avomen for conducting delicate negotiations. 

The thing depended on the English Consul, Monsieur 
Hay. That is another enigma, is it not? — ^hoAV a hunt 
in the neighborhood of Tangier could depend on the 
English Consul. 

It was because Monsieur Hay, being himself a great 
sportsman, had made a special study of rendering himself 
popular among the people of the country. Everything 
relating to carrying a gun at Tangier springs from his 
good pleasure; and no stranger hunts there, unless he 
hunts Avith Monsieur Hay, or receives permission from 
Monsieur Hay. Our object AA^as to obtain permission from 
him, for we could not count on hunting Avith him, as he had 
just received a sprain. 

Mesdames Eoche and Duchateau had consented to plead 
our cause to the English Nimrod; aaEo had not pnly 
granted us permission to hunt, but had also given us an ex- 
cellent companion for our sport— Monsieur de Saint Leger, 
his Secretary, aaIio AA^as almost as great a sportsman as his 
file-leader. We Avere requested to choose a day, and we 
chose the folio Aving one. 


THE BOAR-HUNT. 


61 


In return for this negotiation, so successfully terminated, 
Maquet, Desbarolles, and I left verses, Giraud and Bou- 
langer, sketches, in the albums of these ladies. Thereupon 
we returned to dine on the Veloce. 

I must mention that there is no restaurant in Tangier. 
In Spain one has little and poor eating, but in Morocco one 
has none at all. At intervals the natives of the country 
nibble a fig or a date, and that suffices for twenty-four 
hours. Afterward they drink a cup of coffee, smoke a 
chibouque, and that is the end of it. 

But in the evenings there are orgies in the public square 
of Tangier. ISTear the little street by which you go to 
David’s house flows a fountain, which I think that I have 
already mentioned. In the evening, peo]3le gather around 
this fountain, and drink ; not with shouts, but with roars 
of enjoyment. Never, on some royal festival, did public 
fountain, running wine instead of water, excite so great 
transports of joy, as those to which we saw the people of 
Tangier deliver themselves during one of the evenings that 
we passed in the city. Sometimes, in the height of all this 
tumult, shouting, clamor, made by the men, appeared a 
figure, advancing as grave and silent as a phantom, bearing 
on its head some ewer of antique form, and disclosing noth- 
ing of its person, save, through the opening of the bourga, 
a pair of eyes as brilliant as carbuncles. This apparition, 
before which every one made way with haste that seemed 
as if prompted by fear, was a woman. 

Sometimes this joyous assembly does not disperse until 
midnight. Thus it is in the Torrid Zone. The vivify- 
ing principle is not there, as with us, the sun — it is 
water. It is water that gives verdure to the tree, life 
to the brute, gayety to man. In every quarter where a 
river flows, a brook murmurs, or a spring gushes, life 
abounds, exuberant and vigorous. What miracle was per- 


62 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


formed by Moses, great among tbe prophets ? It was in 
making water gush from the rock. 

They were waiting for us on board. As the vessel was 
anchored about three-quarters of a league from shore, 
they had time to see us coming, so that, in setting foot 
on deck, we had but to go to the dining-room and seat 
ourselves at table. Tangier was a thousand miles off, 
and we once more found ourselves in the midst of civili- 
zation. If a captain so pleases, he could make a voyage 
around the world without its seeming to him that he had 
left Paris. 

The next day, at five o’clock, we were afoot. The gun- 
smith had kept our pieces ready for us. Giraud and 
Boulanger had decided to go with us. They had come to 
the conclusion that, as we should have thirty or forty Arabs 
to beat up the game, it would be as satisfactory to sketch 
one of them scouring through the brush, as to sketch a 
dreamer, a beggar, or a poet squatting at the foot of a 
wall. 

On returning to the deck, Tangier, which we had fancied 
flown away, again appeared. We got into the whale-boat, 
which, impelled by the oars of eight vigorous rowers, glided 
again toward that city of contrasts, where, amidst all those 
houses which possess naught but four white walls and a 
mat, arose in our memory that Jewish dwelling filled with 
stuffs, cushions, scarfs, arms, laces, embroidery, which made 
it seem like a bazaar of the “Arabian Nights.^’ 

We found David waiting for us on the quay. Eecom- 
mend David to your friends, as I shall recommend him to 
mine; for he is unique, Snd of universal knowledgé. AYith 
David, one can do without any one else. With David, one 
cannot lack anything ; on the contrary, one must live in 
luxury. With David, one may slumber on a carpet, for 
which a Sybarite would have paid millions of sesterces. 


THE BOAR-HUNT. 


63 


itli David, one can smoke Latakia tobacco from amber- 
tipped chibouques, from nargiles with crystal goblets and 
golden stands. With David, one can have more than 
reality — one may dream ; one may believe himself a sultan 
in the harem, or a king upon the throne. 

When, on the preceding evening, we were considering, or 
rather were about to consider, the question as to the means 
of conveyance to the hunting-ground, David made a move- 
ment with his lips and shoulders, as much as to say ; “ Let 
me arrange that, that is my affair.” Full of confidence in 
him, we gave him carte-blanche. 

At David’s door, there awaited our pleasure twelve horses 
and twelve Arab domestics, crowding the street, which, like 
all the streets of Tangier, is about eight or ten feet wide. 
Ten minutes afterward. Monsieur Florat and Monsieur de 
Saint Leger joined us. Monsieur de . Saint Leger was the 
Secretary of the Consulate, authorized by Monsieur Hay 
to accompany us. 

What particularly struck me in the costume of Monsieur 
de Saint Leger was his bare legs and bare head. A kind 
of drawers descended just below his knees, and a kind of 
gaiters reached to his ankles. The two vacant spots in his 
dress seemed strange enough to me. Bare legs in the land 
of the cactus and aloe, a bare head in the blaze of a sun 
of the temperature of one hundred and four degrees of the 
thermometer, were more than could be accounted for by 
eccentricity. 

I took the liberty of questioning him on the subject. 
Monsieur de Saint Leger cited the anecdote of Diogenes’ 
throwing away his bowl, because he saw a child drink out 
of its hand. He had seen the Arabs go barelegged, the 
negroes go bareheaded, and he had left off wearing his 
stockings and his hat. At last, as a final challenge to the 
Equator, he wore his hair cut brush-fashion. 


64 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Monsieur de Saint Leger is one of the most pleasant men 
that I ever met. He was perfectly familiar with every detail 
of the country. We each bestrode a horse, and rode along 
side by side. Each of us had his says running alongside 
of his horse and carrying his gun. 

Monsieur Florat’s gun was carried by a huge black from 
Congo, Avhose face combined all the extreme ugliness of his 
race, Avith the most complete stupidity of expression. The 
Moorish domestics treated him in about the same manner 
that Messieurs Florat and de Saint Leger treated them. It 
was evident that they perceived betAveen themselves and 
this rough draught of a man, a difference at least equal to 
that wdiich the cudgel forced them to recognize betAveen 
themselves and Europeans. BeloAV this negro, they saw 
nothing in the scale of living beings, unless perhaps, the 
animal unclean and proscribed by the Prophet — the Avild- 
boar Avhich Ave Avere about to rouse from his lair. 

So each one put his OAvn burden on the back of the negro, 
Avho dared not let the slightest grumble escape his lips ; 
but clothed merely in a cotton shirt, advanced, bending 
under his load, AAÛthout having even a hand at liberty to 
AAupe aAvay the streaming perspiration which varnished his 
face soot-color. 

We rode for about tAvo hours. It was in this excursion 
that my astonishment in regard to nature in Africa Avas 
first aAvakened. All the country Avhich we Avere travelling 
over — a country of valleys, it is true — ^was as green as the 
emerald, and produced a stiff and sharp grass Avhich grew 
to the height of the knee. Out of the grass fleAV flocks of 
plover and couples of partridges. 

At length, after two hours’ ride, Ave perceived on the 
summit of a mountain, relieved against a background of 
blue sky, thirty Arabs leaning on their long guns and Avait- 
ing for us in silence. We made signals to them, to Avhich 


THE BOAE-HUNT. 


65 


he who appeared to be their chief replied by waving his 
burnoose. 

We began to ascend the mountain. On it were the same 
paths, the same plants, the same shrubs, as those to be found 
on the Sierra Morena. Nature has never seriously believed 
in the separation effected between Calpe and Abyla by 
Hercules. Africa is a continuation of Spain. 

With a sureness of foot in which we could recognize the 
Arab breed, our horses mounted the rocky acclivity at the 
angle of forty-five degrees. From the form of the animals, 
however, one might have thought that they were crossed 
with Montmorency or Bois de Boulogne stock. But in the 
best blood, there is still something wanting; and there, 
where our horses would have fallen twenty times, the Mo- 
roccan horses did not stumble once. 

On top of the mountain we reassembled. The Arabs 
had not made a step in advance to meet us. Monsieur de 
Saint Leger entered into conversation with them, and ob- 
tained a sort of recognition. They were grave and polite, 
in the sort of way in which people are polite when obeying 
an order, rather than when partaking of a pleasure. Mon- 
sieur Florat assured me that if Monsieur Hay had been 
with us, instead of Monsieur de Saint Leger, all these men 
would have been as^ager as they were then indifferent. 

After exchanging these few w^ords, we started afresh. 
We still had about three-quarters of a league to go before 
reaching the place where we were to commence hunting. 

We went through paths scarcely marked, over mountain- 
slopes bristling with myrtle, lentisk, and arbutus, in which 
wé and our horses disappeared. I did not understand how 
we should be able to shoot in so dense a growth. An old 
Arab with bare legs and white beard led the hunt. His 
gun, encrusted with copper, had formerly been a matchlock, 
which had successively been made into a wheel-lock and 
6 -» 


66 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


a flint-lock gun. In a hundred years one of his descend- 
ants will make it into a percussion gun. 

A place among the rocks was pointed out to us as the 
spot Avhere we should take breakfast. Several layers of 
stone were disposed by nature, one above another, in this 
granite amphitheatre, w'hich not a single tree protected from 
the scorching ardor of the sun. The shade which it received 
came from the rocks themselves. A spring flowed from the 
lowest stratum of this gigantic dining-room — a spring, to the 
imagination, all the more fresh, all the more icy, because 
it escaped from below a furnace. 

We went to take our stands. As I had presumed, this 
hunt was an almost impossible thing. One could not see 
ten paces around him, and one had no refuge from a 
wounded anii^al, except behind clumps of arbutus, which 
it could have pushed aside and trampled down as if they 
had been grass. 

Scarcely had we reached our stands, w'hen shouting 
began. In my life, I have seen many beaters-up of game, 
but never any so furious. They uttered yells and execra- 
tions. Their words seemed to excite and render them fero- 
cious. Caribbees tracking a European, upon whom they 
hoped to feast, could not have used expression more mena- 
cing. I asked Paul, who stood behind me, holding an extra 
gun, what our beaters-up were after, and what they shouted 
so much. He answered, “They are after a boar, and 
shout to it, ‘ Come out of there, Jew !’ ’’ 

Two or three of the men who had hired out the horses 
w^ere Jews, and had accompanied their animals. It was 
probably at them — to revenge themselves on the Jews, 
because David did not remove his slippers in passing before 
the Mosque — ^that the Moors used this exj)ression in their 
shouts. 

In an instant, two or three shots fired among the beaters- 


THE BOAR-HUNT. 


67 


np themselves, announced to us that the boar had heard 
and understood the warning of what was to come. A hall 
that passed, whistling and breaking the branches, apprised 
me that the animal was coming in our direction. In fact, 
almost immediately, I heard on my left a great noise of 
brambles crashing. But it was with the animal, as with 
the balls : I heard it, but I could not see it. 

Another shot was fired on my right, on the edge of the 
circle. Then we heard the shouts and crashing of branches 
approaching. Our beaters-up were coming. We rejoined 
each other. A jackal had been killed, that was all. 

We w’ere to breakfast after this first battue, and orders 
had been given to our says to wait for us in a clearing, 
whence we could return on horseback to our rock dining- 
room. We reached the clearing, but only three horses were 
in waiting. The others had been there; but while wait- 
ing for us, the Moors and negroes had thought proper to 
enjoy a steeple-chase, and our gentleman-riders were 
taking their pleasure where they found it. The misfortune 
was that we did not know where they were taking their 
pleasure. 

We regained the rendezvous afoot, and I must do the 
justice to Messieurs Florat and de Saint Leger, to say, 
that, although one was a Protestant and the other a 
Catholic, all shade of religious difierence vanished, and 
both returned swearing like pagans. 

A great fire had been made, which there had been no 
difficulty in kindling on those burning rocks. It was lighted 
for the purpose of roasting on the coals a piece of beef 
which IMonsieur Florat had brought raw. The beef was 
cut into the thinnest possible slices, and placed on the 
embers. At this point of time, and as they began to take 
from a wallet our provisions, which consisted of a ham, 
two or three fowls, and a dozen bottles of wine, we saw our 


68 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


men and our horses returning ; the men out of breath, the 
horses panting; the horses covered with lather, the men 
streaming with perspiration; the men knocked up, the 
horses foundered. 

When the men perceived us, they were stupefied. The 
guilty fellows let themselves slip from their horses, and 
glided like adders into the hushes. Only two or three, less 
nimble-footed than the rest, were caught by the owners of 
the horses. Then commenced one of those bastinadoes of 
the East, of which not only have we no idea in France, 
but which, moreover, are repugnant to every Frenchman 
who has not dwelt a certain number of years on the other 
side of the Mediterranean. 

Probably, if the correction had been administered by a 
.Turk to an Arab, or by an Arab to a Moor, the spectators 
would have taken in it but a secondary interest, or perhaps 
they would have taken no interest at all, the thing being a 
family matter. But Christians beating True Believers — 
that made a great difierence. Eyes began to flash beneath 
their burnooses. 

I remarked this circumstance to these gentlemen, but 
they made no account of it, and did not stop until they 
deemed that they had cleared off scores with the unhappy 
squires. 

The one who received the heaviest discharge of blows 
was the poor devil of a negro. He rolled on the ground, 
howling long after any one thought of striking him. He 
who, after him, uttered most groans, was a Jew. The 
Arabs bore the thing without breathing a syllable. 

At last the negro and the other men arose. Monsieur 
Florat threw his gun to the negro, who mingled with the 
beaters-up, and we bègan to busy ourselves about our 
breakfast. 

I merely cautioned our friends not to leave their arms, 


THE BOAE-HUXT. 


69 


and not to fail to watch the Arabs, their countenances 
having betokened the most evident displeasure during the 
scene of the bastinadoing. I made the same observation to 
our foreign-resident companions ; but they, accustomed to 
live among these men, attached to what I said less import- 
ance than I could have wished. 

Each of us shared the culinary duties. Some cut up the 
fowls, others minced slices of ham. These cut the bread, 
those uncorked the bottles. Boulanger sketched. 

Stationed on the rocks, we commanded a view of the 
plateau. Around us, arranged in a circle, were our thirty 
or forty Arabs. For food, they had nothing but some 
dates, and for drink, nothing but the spring which, after 
lingering for an instant in a little basin of rock, went its 
way, leaving along its track a brighter green than that 
surrounding. Its course was not long. At the distance of 
scarcely fifty paces the sun drank it up. 

My eyes followed this single tear, which marked with a 
watery wrinkle the parched face of the earth, when, 
bringing back my gaze from things to men, it fell upon our 
negro, who, seeming to have already forgotten the basti- 
nadoing which had made him utter yells, was playing with 
Monsieur Florat’s gun; just as a monkey, or any other 
animal which was using its fore-paws as hands would have 
done; and without any of the precaution which a man 
ordinarily takes with a fire-arm. I was just on the eve of 
calling Monsieur Florat’s attention to this proceeding, when 
I suddenly saw the gun transformed into a flash, and a ball, 
whistling over our heads, flattened itself on the rock against 
which we were leaning. In an instant we were on our feet, 
with our guns in our hands. Was it an accident, or was it 
an attack? 

The Arabs also were up. They, too, held their guns in 
readiness. 


70 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


The negro rolled on the ground, crying out like a man 

in agony. ^ ^ 

There was a momentary silence. The most prudent 
course was to take the occurrence as a piece of awkward- 
ness, so we took it so. 

In the midst of the silence. Monsieur Florat left his 
place, walked straight toward the negro, snatched away the 
gun with one hand, and, with the other, thrashed him 
vigorously with a hunting whip. It is useless to say that 
the rogue had not received the least scratch, but that he 
cried in advance, like the eels of Melun. This time, at 
least, he cried for something. 

It was evident that if, instead of being a negro, the 
delinquent had been a Moor or an Arab, the mutiny would 
have broken out ; but a negro — ^that could not afford even 
a pretext ! The Arabs resumed their places, and we sat 
down again. 

In the midst of this short disturbance I had time to see a 
smile which flitted over the lips of the Jews. For a 
moment, they thought that the Arabs and the Christians 
were going to slaughter each other. 'Five minutes afterward 
calm reappeared on every face,, and no one looked as if he 
recollected what had passed. 

However, this event, of Avhich perhaps I exaggerate the 
importance, cast a damper on the remainder of the hunt. 
The Arab bullets which passed innocently near us, as the 
one which had followed the boar in the first battue had 
done, all seemed to us to have hostile intentions. 

Nevertheless, the hunt proceeded without accident, if we 
except the necessity under which we lay, of passing 
through a piece of woods that had been burnt. The fire in 
extinguishing had left a crust of charcoal on every tree, 
every bush, every branch. When we got out, we needed 
but a coating more exactly like that of the negro, and 


THE BOAR-HUNT. 


71 


more skilfully applied, to leave us nothing wherein to 
envy him. . 

During the last battue; that is to say, about five o’clock 
in the evening, a young boar was killed by a Moor. 

Whilst hunting we had advanced into the interior a 
league or two. But that did not annoy us so much as the 
fatigue did. Monsieur de Samt Leger, who, let me mention 
parenthetically, had hunted all day barelegged and bare- 
headed, had ordered the says to bring the horses to a desig- 
nated place, but when we reached the place, we found it 
entirely deserted. We had recourse to shouting and firing, 
but without avail. 

The occurrence was much the more serious, because 
neither Arab nor Moor was willing to carry the wild-boar, 
an unclean meat, which, in consequence, brought contami- 
nation. No promise could induce them to carry the 
animal; and now that it was dead, even the man 
who had killed it appeared to regard it with profound 
horror. 

At last Eau de Benjoin, whose laziness during our journey 
in Spain had become a byword, volunteered to perform the 
duty. He obtained the assistance of Monsieur Hay’s cook, 
who had come with us, entrusted by Monsieur de Saint 
Leger with the charge of the provisions. Despite his Is- 
maelitish origin, Eau de Benjoin must have been very fond 
of wild-boar. 

Our two porters set about finding a pole. A pole of suf- 
ficient thickness to bear a wild-boar, that is to say, a tree 
about three inches in circumference, is not an easy thing to 
find in the woods of Morocco. Eau de Benjoin and the 
cook tied together the four feet of the animal, passed the 
jDole between its legs, and each of them placed an end of 
the pole on his shoulder. Then they set out staggering un- 
der the load, like those Hebrews who, in the old Bible- 


72 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


engravings, carry the famous bunch of grapes, a specimen 
of the fruit as 'iL'gro:jys in the Promised Land. 

We followed them, gather we preceded them, after 
having promised our absent says, who were giving us a 
second edition of the morning’s performance, a second 
thrashing revised and augmented. 

We walked about a league \)r a league and a half in the 
direction of Tangier, shouting and firing guns. Night had 
almost fallen. 

Suddenly, by the last of the twilight, we saw rise above 
the horizon a band of a dozen horsemen, who, growing taller 
to the sight as they ascended from behind a hill, showed 
singly for an instant as they attained its summit, and then, 
like an avalanche, rushed in our direction. They were our 
people returning. AVhence? No one knew. 

I never saw, neyer imagined such a whirlwind of demons 
loosed on this earth. Those bronzed visages merging into 
the shade, those white burnooses floating like winding- 
sheets, the muffled gallop of the vaguely-(Jiscernible horses, 
which approached with lightning-like rapidity, — all these 
circumstances gave to that nocturnal race the fantastic 
seeming of a dream. I recalled to my mind the Sioux 
whom Cooper represents as coursing over the prairie around 
the squatters’ camp. As for myself, I almost pardoned the 
men their fault, in consideration of the unexpected and 
ravishing spectacle which they presented. 

At ten paces from us, they reined up short, leaped from 
their saddles, and, warned by experience, got out of reach ; 
a precaution which, after what I had heard said around me 
for the last half hour, appeared to be full of wisdom. 

They whom this return most rejoiced, not on account of 
its poetic side, but on account of its prosaic one, Avere Paul 
and the cook. The wild-boar Avas put portemanteau-fashion 
on the croup of Paul’s horse. ' Each of us again mounted 


THE BOAR-HUNT. 


73 


his frightened beast, and we continued on our way toward 
Tangier, where we arrived at ten o’clock at night. It was 
then that we saw all the joyous population around the foun- 
tain, getting drunk on fresh water. 

David was waiting for us. On the next day a Jewish 
wedding was to be celebrated at Tangier, and he bade us 
not to lose this opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
the marriage ceremonies of the Israelites. W^e should not, 
he said, be obliged to concern ourselves about anything; 
we should find at his house our breakfast and our dinner. 

All these arrangements for the morrow having been 
made, we returned to sleep on the Véloce, which waited for 
us with a lantern hoisted on her mainmast. 

7 D 


A JEWISH WEDDING. 


A CCOEDINGLY, the next day, on reaching David’s 
house, we found our breakfast ready. Never did I see a 
more neat and appetizing table. 

There were fresh butter, such as I had not seen since our 
departure from France, fine dates, and excellent figs. The 
rest of the dishes were composed of mutton-chops and fried 
fish, which viands we moistened with a wine of David’s 
making, with the composition of which the grape must have 
had very little to do : but it was not the less excellent on that 
account. I hazarded the opinion that, in all probability, it 
was the liquor which, in the Middle Ages, was served under 
the name of hydromel. 

After breakfast, David requested us to accompany him 
to the house of the bride. 

Six days had already passed since the celebration of the 
marriage began. This was the seventh, called the day of 
henna. It was the most curious one ; that on which the 
bride was to be conducted to the conjugal household. 

At the distance of a hundred yards from the house we 
could hear the noise which issued from it. The noise con- 
sisted of the thrumming of tambourines, the scraping of 
fiddles, and the tinkling of sleigh-bells, which was not 
wanting in a certain harmony full of barbaric peculiarity — 
in such music as one expects to find in Morocco. 

We continued to advance. The door was crowded with 
74 


A JEWISH WEDDING. 


75 


the curious, but at the sight of David, they made way 
for us. 

AVe entered a square court-yard, surrounded, except 
toward the street, with terraced houses. An enormous fig- 
tree, which reminded me of that upon which the Athenians 
used to hang themselves, stood in the middle of the court- 
yard, with Jewish and Moorish children clustering in its 
branches. 

On two sides of the walls were benches. The benches 
were filled with spectators, among whom we were shown 
seats. The other two sides of the wall, which were those 
of the street and of the front of the house, were occupied — 
that on the street, by three musicians sitting cross-legged, 
and playing. One of them played the violin, reversing the 
instrument, as the violoncello is played; the two others 
played the tambourine. The wall forming the face of the 
house was occupied by a dozen or so Jewish women, dressed 
in their richest costumes, and grouped, some at the feet of 
others, in the most picturesque manner, presenting no break 
in the blending of their forms, except that caused by the 
ogive portal, in the depths of which one could see fifteen or 
twenty other women fading away into the remote distance. 

All the adjacent terraces were covered with spectators, or 
rather with spectatresses— strange spectatresses who looked 
like phantoms ! They were Moorish women, dressed in ample 
blue and white garments called abroks. They were seated 
cross-legged. Now and then they arose, and uttered a sort 
of prolonged laugh that sounded like the gobbling of the 
turkey and the scream of the osprey combined. After 
uttering this cry, they reseated themselves, and resumed 
their immobility. One only among all these women went 
running from terrace to terrace, striding over the intervals 
with wonderful agility, and from time to time sinning 
against all the laws of the Prophet, opening her abrok to 


76 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


disclose to us a charming head, which she as quickly con- 
cealed, laughing coquettishly. Truly,Virgirs Galatæa flying 
toward the willows, yet wishing to be seen before she reaches 
them, belongs to every clime, even to that of Morocco ! 

It required some time for us to take in all these objects — 
the fig-tree laden with children, spectators sitting on the 
benches, musicians playing the violin and the tambourine, 
Jewish women fitting in groups, Jewish women standing 
under the portal, Moorish women sitting cross-legged on 
the terrace. But, at last, we succeeded in resolving the 
scene into a whole replete with harmonious richness of 
color. 

A square place leading to the door of the house was unoc- 
cupied, and had been covered with a carpet. David went in 
to speak to the women of the house. One of them came out 
blushing, but without requiring persuasion. She advanced to 
the middle of the square place, amidst the encouragement 
of her companions and the wild laughter of the Moorish 
women. Then she drew a handkerchief from her pocket, 
took it by two of the corners, and twisted it by swinging 
it around rapidly. When it was as hard as a rope, she 
began to dance. 

The fandango, cachucha, ole, bito, and the jaleo de Xeres, 
have spoiled us. It is true that the Jewish dance is not a 
dance. It is a clattering step in one spot, accompanied by 
a movement of the hips, reminding one of the Andalusian 
menito. In other respects there is little grace, save in the 
movement of the hands, little voluptuousness, save in the 
expression of the eyes. 

Ten or twelve women danced one after another ; and the 
most accurate observer would not have been able to detect 
any diflerence in their terpsichorean talent. It is true that 
they all danced to the same tune, accompanied by the same 
song. When the tune was finished, it was resumed with the 


A JEWISH WEDDING. 


77 


first bar ; when tbe song was finished, tlie song was recom- 
menced. 

The tune was not exactly a tune, but a kind of monoto- 
nous cadence, running through an octave at most. At 
intervals, the elder of the two players on the tambourine 
laid down his instrument and clapped his withered hands, 
which sounded like two wooden palettes striking together. 
One might have thought that the flesh was absent, and that 
a skeleton’s bones were producing this singular noise. 

As for the song, I will give you a thousand chances to 
guess its subject. It was the song of the bombardment of 
Tangier. 

There are two events which have made a profound im- 
pression in Morocco. The first is the bombardment of 
Tangier ; the second, the battle of Isly. 

No song has yet been coihposed on the battle of Isly, at 
least I do not know of any ; but one has been composed on 
the bombardment of Tangier. 

Why did they sing this song at a Jewish wedding? That 
is the question which I asked myself, and which every one 
will ask himself. Is a bombardment a fit subject for a 
nuptial song? No. But the appearance of Frenchmen on 
the coast of Tangier led to a conflict, and that conflict to a 
victory. This conflict was the old struggle between the 
East and the West. Until the thirteenth century the East 
brought us light. Since the fourteenth century we have 
carried to it liberty. 

This conflict brought about a victory, and that victory a 
treaty. Now, wherever, even after a victory, we make a 
treaty, — it belongs to our prodigal character — ^there is more 
for our enemies to receive than to bestow. The J ews espe- 
cially, those pariahs of fanaticism, have always gained some- 
thing by extending to us the hand of friendship. So the 
Jews crushed, like Enceladus, beneath the weight of that 


78 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


mountain which God has rolled on them, — man’s tyranny, — 
the Jews turned themselves more easily from the moment 
when we rendered that tyranny lighter. Then the bombard- 
ment of Tunis, terrible for all, was nevertheless a little less 
terrible for them than for the rest of its inhabitants. For 
that conflagration, by the light of which they caught a 
glimpse of a happier future, was to them the dawn — the dawn 
of a day perhaps as bright as that which rests on Algiers. 

Therefore it is that this song, melancholy as it is, is sung 
at all times, everywhere, by everybody; even' sung by the 
J ews, who are not given to singing, and who even sing it as 
a nuptial song. 

The following are some of the verses that I heard. The 
number is not fixed; and in a country where poetry is the 
common language, where all are poets, every day gives 
birth to a new stanza devoted to* the great event : 

From climes unknown a warlike fleet, 

Unnumbered as the starry host. 

Whitened the wave beneath our feet. 

And terror spread through all the coast. 

Then, frantic in that hour of grief, 

Men called on Allah for relief. 

Tangier ! O city of my love ! 

Thou ancient sovereign of the sea ! 

In anguish of my soul, above 
My darkest dread, I prayed for thee. 

And loudly, in that hour of grief, 

Implored I Allah for relief. 

From festal scenes, at evening fall, 

AVearied we sought our welcome sleep. 

Nor dreamed that hieath death’s sable pall. 

Ere morning dawned, we all should weep, 

Or that aloud, in tones of grief, 

We should from Allah pray relief. 


A JEAVISH WEDDING. 


79 


On every side the people came, 

Bushing bewildered to the walls ; 

But swifter still, on wings of flame. 

Swept shot, and shell, and red-hot balls : 

Women, in terror and in grief. 

Exclaimed, O Allah, send relief I 

On fiery steeds came chieftains first : 

To arms ! to arms ! they sternly cried : 

But when upon their vision burst 
That countless fleet, their spirit died ; 

And helpless there, and plunged in grief, 

They too prayed Allah for relief. 

From dawn that day, the thunderous sound 
Of mighty cannon shook the air: 

When evening came, a crumbling mound 
Alone, of all that fort, was there. 

With frenzied. gestures, tones of grief, 

Men cried to Allah for relief. 

The fleet, concealed by sombre night. 

To Mogador swift sped away: 

When morning broke in floods of light, 

Free in her ashes Tangier lay. 

For vainly had we cried in grief, 

Allah ! O Allah ! send relief! 

This is the grange song Avhieh they sang at the JeAvish 
wedding, and which, as well as the dance, they interrupted 
for the purpose of showing us the bride. 

The bride was in the chamber which, from the court- 
yard, we saAV croAvded with JeAvish women. We penetrated 
into it, conducted by David, who appeared to enjoy high 
consideration among his co-religionists. The bride, AAdio 
was lying in a large bed Avith four young girls who seemed 
to be guarding her, was obliged to rise. She AA^as conducted 
to the middle of the room, and Avas then told to seat her- 
self Avith her back against the Avail. She wore a red veil, 


80 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


and kept her eyes closed. She had not opened her eyes 
since the commencement of the ceremonies, and they had 
lasted for eight days. 

The first day, which was the Wednesday preceding onr 
arrival, the family had taken possession of the bride, and 
the musicians had taken possession of the court-yard. The 
family had bathed the bride from head to foot, and the 
musicians had begun their witches’ sabbath. The bride 
having come out of the bath, she was placed on her bed, 
which she was not to leave except for the time necessary to 
shake the mattress. Then they closed her eyes, which she 
was not to open except to see her husband. 

On Thursday, her female relations had coursed through 
the city, inviting her female friends to come to the house 
on Saturday. On Friday, the family had prepared dinner 
for Saturday, and at six o’clock on Saturday morning the 
young girls invited had arrived, and had lain down on the 
same bed with the bride. About nine or ten o’clock in the 
morning, after the groom had come out of the Synagogue, 
all those who had heard prayers with him accompanied 
him to the bride’s house. The day passed in festivity, but 
the bride did not open her eyes,* the bride did not rise. 

All Saturday night, until Sunday, music was playing. 
On Sunday the house was cleaned. This oecupation took 
a part of the morning. In the evening the bride sent 
presents to the groom. These presents were mattresses, 
sheets, and shirts. The women accompanied the presents, 
singing “ Hulaleh ! Hulaleh !” 

On Monday, early, a great dinner for the women was 
prepared. As soon as dinner w^as over, the bride was made 
, to rise, and was conducted to the bath, to which she went 
with her eyes closed. The women accompanied her. The 
bath belongs to the Synagogue. 

On Tuesday, that is to say, the day of henna, — ^the day 


A JEWISH WEDDING. 81 

wliich had arrived, — ^tlie dancing and singing continued. 
But at mid-day it was intended that the bride should rise, 
seat herself against the wall, and have her finger-nails and 
toe-nails painted with henna. This is what the attendants 
were about at that time, and it was for the purpose of being 
present at the ceremony that we had been introduced into 
the chamber. 

At the end of a half hour, the bride’s finger-nails and 
toe-nails were brick-color; and, enriched with this orna- 
mentation, she was conducted to her bed, amidst the Moor- 
ish women’s shrill laughter, of which no other human 
sound can convey any idea. 

At six o’clock in the evening they were to finish the 
toilette of the bride, and conduct her to the groom. Until 
that time, there would be nothing going on, except the 
dances and songs. The dances were always the same, 
the song was always that of the bombardment. 

We instructed David to drop some douros into the bonnet 
of the dancer who was performing as we left the room. It 
is a sort of tribute paid by strangers who come to look on 
at these dances, and we submitted to it with great pleasure. 
The show had been curious enough for us not to regret our 
money. 

We spent all the day in running about the streets of 
Taijgier, and in completing our purchases at David’s, 
where a dinner, as excellent as the breakfast had been, was 
served for us about four o’clock in the afternoon. At six 
o’clock, we returned to the house of the bride. The conclu- 
sion which was approaching had brought into the street 
and into the court-yard an assembly of the curious, still 
more considerable in numbers than that of the morning. 
We had the greatest trouble in the world to get through 
the crowd, but with David, one could do anything. We 
entered. 


82 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


They were awaiting our arrival, in order to begin the 
ceremony of the toilette. Scarcely had we taken our 
places at one end of the chamber, which was about twenty 
feet long by, at most, eight feet wide, when at the opposite 
end red damask curtains were withdraw, disclosing to us 
the bride lying amid five or six young girls. 

They made her rise, her eyes being still closed. They 
made her leave the bed, and seat herself in the middle of 
the chamber, opposite the door, on a chair backed against 
the wall. The chair was raised on its feet, like that of 
Thomas Diafoirus in “ Le Malade Imaginaire.” The bride 
perched on the chair. 

Then the matrons surrounded her. They removed 
her lace veil, and began to dress her hair. The hair 
served for the substructure, on which they placed a head- 
dress, then a second one, and then a third. Over this third 
head-dress, which rose to the height of half a foot, a scarf 
was rolled, stove-pipe fashion ; and on this pipe was placed 
a red-velvet diadem with points, of the shape of the ancient 
crowns of the Frankish kings. 

The head-dress having been completed, they proceeded 
from the forehead to the face. A woman, armed with a 
camel’s-hair pencil, then commenced to paint the bride’s 
eyebrows and eyelashes with khol, while another one, with 
a little leaf of gilt paper, the gilding of which covered a 
coat of cochineal, rubbed the cheeks, which instantly 
assumed the tint of the most brilliant carmine. The appli- 
cation was made in the simplest manner. The woman who 
had charge of this part of the toilette applied her tongue 
to the leaf of gilt paper, and the leaf, all wet, to the cheek 
of the bride. A rubbing, which might have been more 
gentle, accomplished the rest of the process. 

This coloring process lasted for an hour or two, without 
the poor victim’s opening her eyes, hazarding a gesture, or 


A JEWISH WEDDING. 


83 


even stirring. After this, she was made to get down from 
her chair, and mount a sort of throne arranged on a 
table. There she sat as stiff as a Japanese figure, whilst 
her brother, candle in hand, exhibited the idol to every one. 
During this time the women fanned her with their hand- 
kerchiefs. 

Every ten minutes or so the Moorish women broke out 
into the shrill laughter of which I have already spoken. 

After half an hour’s exhibition, candles appeared, and 
the music redoubled in fury. The candles were borne by 
the relations of the groom, who had come to escort the 
bride to his house. The hour had arrived for her to repair 
to the nuptial dwelling. They laid hold of her on her 
throne, they lifted her off by main strength, and deposited 
her on the floor, amidst the shouts, the applause, and the 
Moorish women’s laughter, which was heard above all 
the din. 

All the curious were made to retire, we bringing up the 
rear. At the door, four Janissaries, with lanterns in one 
hand, and cudgels or koorbashes in the other, were waiting 
for the procession. They were to perform the duty of clear- 
ing the way for it, and that of protecting us. 

The procession began to move, headed by the bride, 
whose eyes were still closed, and whose every movement 
was remarkable for its automatic stiffness. Three men 
guided her ; two holding her under the arms, and walking 
beside her, the third walking behind her, supporting her 
head. Three men bearing candles lighted the way, walking 
backward, and pushing behind them the curious, who, also, 
were walking backward. 

All the people who had been at the wedding followed the 
bride. This mass was separa.ted into two quite distinct 
portions — the invited guests and the bride who walked for- 
ward — the curious who walked backward. A great focus 


84 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


of light separated them, projecting rays over all these fig- 
ures with strange costumes — Moors, J ews, Arabs, Christians. 

This light, which flickeringly mounted along the houses, 
revealed every door crowded with veiled women, every little 
street barred wdth tall spectres, of which one could see no- 
thing but the winding-sheets ; whilst, on the terrace-height, 
coursed like fantastic ghosts, an aerial cortege, leaping from 
house to house, following from roof to roof this clamorous 
and luminous procession, which seemed to push before it, 
draw after it, and awake on its fianks, the whole population 
of Tangier. 

It was the most fantastic spectacle that I ever saw in my 
life ; and I shall never forget those groups of white phan- 
toms, amidst which shone the Jewish women’s golden vests 
and head-dresses of pearl. I shall never forget those little 
square windows, out of each of which passed a head. I 
shall never forget those demons of the night vaulting from 
roof to roof, in the half-light which reached them, halting 
only when some little cross-street barred their way, and 
clearing it with an echoless bound, as if curiosity had lent 
them wings as silent as those of the bat. 

In about an hour, we at length reached the house, into 
which we entered, still guarded by our Janissaries. 

I was in the front rank of those who walked backward, 
immediately behind the candle-bearers, and between two 
Janissaries, — ^^vho, despite my remonstrances, of which they 
understood nothing, struck right and left, picking up stones 
to hit those whom they could not reach otherwise, — and 
protected by them, not only from hurt, but from all contact 
with the crowd. 

The groom was backed against a wall, motionless, with 
his eyes cast down, and like a stone statue guarding the 
door. He 'svas dressed in black, he had his head shaved, 
and he wore a single line of beard, which commenced at 


A JEWISH WEDDING. 


85 


the ears and passed under the chin. He might have been 
about twenty-two or twenty-four years of age. 

Our entrance did not cause him to make any movement. 
He remained at his post, with downcast eyes, and without 
even looking as if the breath of life passed across his thin 
and compressed lips. Only Giraud could undertake to 
give the portraiture of this singular personage. 

, The bride came behind us, for, thanks to the Janizaries, 
all the curious had been kept in the street. On the sill slie 
stopped. They brought her a glass of water, which she 
drank, after which they broke the glass. 

The glass having been broken, the bride entered. They 
carried her to a throne, like the one which she had occu- 
pied at her own house. Then the shouts and the music 
recommenced, and continued for about ten minutes. During 
these ten minutes of uproar,, neither the bride on her throne, 
nor the groom backed against the wall, gave any sign of 
life. At last five or six women lifted the bride from her 
throne, and carried her to the bed, after which the curtains 
fell, and every one was told to leave the room. 

I know not whether the poor girl had known the house 
to which she was conducted, or had ever seen her husband; 
but if both were unknown to her, she must have been dis- 
agreeably surprised on opening her eyes. The house was 
very poor, and the husband very ugly. 

We left the house. It was about ten o’clock. The 
lights were extinguished, the curious dispersed, the streets 
empty. As at the signal for retreat in “ Robert le Diable,” ; 
the phantoms seemed to have returned to their tombs, and 
a few belated ones were gliding along the walls. 

We passed by the little fountain. Even the little foun- 
tian was solitary, and one could hear nothing but the plash-, 
ing of its water falling on the pavement. All the noise, 
the uproar, the splendor, had vanished like a dream. 

8 


86 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Ten minutes afterward we were outside of Tangier, which 
we left, probably never to see again. 

On the quay, we bade adieu to David. During the day 
he had carried all our purchases on board of the Veloce, 
and had despatched a messenger to Tetuan. The messenger 
was the bearer of a letter from Monsieur Florat, apprising 
the Bey of Tetuan that, on the morning of the next day 
but one, we would land near the Custom House, at the dis- 
tance of about two leagues from the city. 

We wished to settle our accounts with David, for the 
breakfast nnd dinner which ^e had taken at his house, and 
for the tobacco and dates which he had sent to us, but he 
would not listen to it, telling us that it would give him pain 
if we insisted further. 

I met, during my voyage, two Israelites with whom I 
had much to do — at Tangier, David — at Algiers, Soulal. 
I commend to the most honest Christians of my acquaint- 
ance, their politeness, their honesty, and their disinter- 
estedness. 


THE PILLARS OF HERCULES. 


TyE reached the Veloce about half-past ten o’clock in 
the evening,^ during the first watch. Supper was 
ready for us. We remained at table until midnight, and, 
on deck, until one o’clock in the morning. We could not 
reconcile ourselves to losing sight of that fairy city which, 
as if to fête us, had shown itself under so strange an 
aspect. 

At two o’clock, the vessel got up steam. At four o’clock, 
we were to get under way. I requested to be awakened, as 
I did not wish to lose any incident in the passage of the 
Straits of Gibraltar, which all modern prosaism has not yet 
been able to deprive of the spell with which it was invested 
by poetic antiquity. My request was useless. At four 
o’clock I was awakened by the first motion of the corvette, 
and at five o’clock I returned to the deck. 

It was still night, although one could perceive the ap- 
proach of day. On the right, on the coast of Africa, 
Monkey Mountain stood out in ultramarine tint relieved 
against the paler azure of the sky, already warmed by the 
first rays of sunshine. On the left, but still in twilight, 
the coast was somewhat less dark, and midway on it one 
could see shining the light-house at Tarifa. 

We were steering so as to gain the middle of the Straits, 
and in the shade in which we still were, the striking of the 
steamer’s paddles evolved from the sea, globes of phos- 

87 


88 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


phorescent flame, winch, after having swept along the 
steamer’s sides, fell astern, to unite and lose themselves in 
her wake. 

The day, little by little, grew brighter. Still maintaining 
its ultramarine hue. Monkey Mountain was defined on an 
orange- tinted sky. We commenced to distinguish the coast 
as far as Ceuta. The mountain looked like a gigantic 
camel, lying along the shore, and drinking out of the sea. 
Ceuta formed the head, and, above the head, one could 
distinguish, as if a crest, the notches of its battlements. 

On its side, the coast of Spain began to receive light. 
One could clearly distinguish its cities, villages, detached 
houses, and the multitude of valleys and mountains 
wdiich abut on the sea. On the opposite shore, the one 
which we were leaving, there was not a city, not a douar, 
not a gourbi. 

At the moment when we were nearing the coast line 
of Africa, the sun rose beyond Ceuta. In the blaze we 
distinctly perceived Gibraltar, its forts reflecting the light, 
and its harbor still shrouded in a haze pierced, as with 
gigantic lances, by the streamer-decked masts of vessels. 

It was from the point where we w^ere, from wdiich in their 
full extent appeared the two mountains which the ancients 
called the Pillars of Hercules, beyond which they for a 
long while supposed that naught existed but night. 

You know how Hercules, in coming from the East to the 
West, made the same voyage which we w^ere at this time 
making, in going from the West to the East. 

The Twelve Labors having been accomplished, Hercules 
resolved to take a little recreation by travelling for plea- 
sure. The voyage which he desired to make was the cir- 
cumnavigation of the Mediterranean, the tour of the 
known w^orld. 

He therefore left Greece, the usual theatre of his ex- 


THE PILLARS OF HERCULES. 


89 


l^loits, and went to Egypt. In Egypt, Busiris seized him 
and loaded him with chains. Hercules broke his chains, 
as easily as he would have sna,pped a silken thread, and 
killed Busiris with a blow of his club. 

Hercules continues his course, but on the confines of the 
Earth he meets Antæus, son of the Earth, who acquires new 
strength every time that, in his wrestle with Hercules, he 
touches his mother, be it but with the tip of his toe. Her- 
cules raises Antæus up from the ground, and squeezes him 
to death against his breast. 

Hercules penetrates into the desert, but he loses his way 
amid the burning sands. It is no longer the Nemæan Lion, 
the Lernæan Hydra, the Erymanthian Boar, or the 
Stymphalian Birds, that he must encounter : it is an enemy 
much more dangerous, much more determined, an enemy 
invincible — it is thirst. The hero is dying, suffocated, con- 
sumed, calcined by the blazing sun, by the blazing sand, 
by the blazing atmosphere; when Jupiter appears under the 
form of a ram, and, with a kick, causes a spring to flow, 
around which at the present day still flourishes the oasis 
of Ammon. 

Hercules continues his journey. From a distance he 
perceives Atlas, that ancient Titan rebel, on whom Jupiter 
had inflicted the punishment of supporting the heavens on 
his shoulders. It is he whom Hercules is seeking. Her- 
cules had determined that, in order to appease his brother 
Eurystheus, he would take to him three golden apples 
gathered in the gardens of the Hesperides, which ought to 
be situated about twenty-five or thirty leagues off some- 
where in the vicinity. Now, who can show him the way 
better than Atlas, whose head overlooks all round about? 

Hercules finds in Atlas the most complaisant giant in the 
world. Atlas, not content with showing him the way, will, • 
as the way is very difficult, himself go for the golden 
8 * 


90 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


apples. To manage the affair needs but one thing ^that is, 
for Hercules to take liis place for a day or two, and sup- 
port the heavens during hij absence. Hercules can refuse 
nothing to a king who shows so much complaisance toward 
him, so he stoops beside the Titan, carefully slides the load 
on to his own shoulders, and very gently substitutes himself 
for the old heaven-bearer, without the heavens’ perceiving 
for an instant that they are less well supported since he 
undertook the task. 

Here is Atlas temporarily at his ease. He stretches his 
arms, he stretches his legs, and starts off to perform his 
promise. 

Two days after his departure, Atlas, as he had promised, 
returned, bringing back the three golden apples. But 
Atlas had acquired a taste for liberty, and instead of hand- 
ing the three golden apples to Hercules, he declared thiW; 
he himself would take them to Eurystheus, whilst Her- 
cules, a prisoner by compulsion, should continue to support 
Olympus. 

To tell you that this new arrangement of Atlas did not 
sonmwhat surprise Hercules, and that the gods did not feel 
a sfight quaking of the heavens for a minute after the giant 
had made this proposition, is what I dare not affirm. But 
what has long been established is, that the countenance of 
Hercules continued to express the most bland serenity, and 
that he consented to everything, on one condition — that 
Atlas would give him time to make a pad to put on his 
back, certain roughnesses in the. heavens bruising his shoul- 
der-blades. 

Atlas, who did not expect so much willingness on the 
part of Hercules, agreed that the latter should do what he 
liked, on condition that he wogld not take more time than 
that strictly necessary for the making of his pad. Her- 
cules promised all that the other wished, and, in his turn. 


THE PILLARS OF HERCULES. 


91 


slid the load on to the shoulders of Atlas, just as Atlas had 
slid it on to his shoulders. But when the credulous giant 
was settled, Hercules, instead of^ troubling himself about 
the pad, wished Atlas joy of his office of heavenly caryatid, 
took the three golden apples, and continued on his way. 
Since that time. Atlas has not budged, and w’e should find 
him at the same place where he was left by Hercules.* 

At last Hercules arrived where we now were. Only, allow 
me to remind you that, formerly, the world was not made 
exactly as it is at the present day. The Mediterranean 
formed a great basin, which had no communication with 
the ocean. Sicily was part of Calabria. Besides, a great 
chain of mountains, which, in the ancient world, tradition 
preserved under the name of Atlantis,t extended from the 
westernmost point of Africa to the southern coast of 
America, like a bridge thrown across the ocean. 

Hercules did not like the way in which the thing was . 
arranged, and resolved to open a passage through which 
the Mediterranean and the ocean could communicate. A 
mountain had two peaks. That made a point of support, 
and gave him great facilities. He placed his back against 
one of the peaks, his feet against the other, and pushed. 
Under this powerful impulse, the granite chain was rent 
asunder, and the sea precipitated itself boiling through the 
.passage. At the same stroke, or rather counter-stroke, 
Messina, shaken to its centre, parted from Calabria. 

To the two mountains which Hercules made out of a 
single one, which mountains even now seem ready to rejoin 
each other, he gave the names of Calpe and Abyla. Then 

* The obtaining of the golden apples from the gardens of the 
Hesperides, which adventure Dumas gives as one of the voluntary- 
feats of Hercules, was, as the reader may remember, the eleventh of 
the Twelve Labors. — Trans. " 

f Usually called the island Atlantis. — Trans. 


92 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


he continued his journey, traversed Spain, crossed the Py- 
renees, passed the Rhone, strode over the Alps, skirted 
Liguria, and returned to Greece. 

If Hercules had been born twenty minutes earlier in- 
stead of a quarter of an hour later than his brother Eurys- 
tlieus, he would have found himself the elder brother, in- 
stead of finding himself the younger one, and would 
eventually have occupied his time in reigning tranquilly 
over Thebes, and not in rambling like a knight-errant over 
the w^orld : which is as much as to say, that Calpe and 
Ahyla would still have formed an unbroken chain, and 
that I should have been standing on the top of a mountain 
instead of sailing in the middle of a strait. 


THE ENGLISH IN SPAIN. 


c 

TN the meantime, while recalling to my memory this 
ancient legend of Hercules, — ^so ancient that it may 
perhaps have appeared entirely new to you ; — and without 
seeking to fathom whether there was but one Hercules, 
according to Hesiod, or whether there were three Her- 
culeses, according to Diodorus, or six, according to Cicero, 
or in fine, fifty-three, according to Varro; — without main- 
taining with modern ephemerists, that, on the contrary, of 
the fifty-three Herculeses, not a single one has existed, 
either as man, demi-god, or god, and that Hercules is 
neither more nor less than Bel, Belus, Baal, the Sun, that 
the Twelve Labors are the twelve signs of the Zodiac, 
that the Seven Nights are days of the week, and in fine, 
that the fifty-two daughters of Thespius are the fifty-two 
weeks of the year ; — without investigating the great proba- 
bility that all the voyages ceaselessly renewed from the 
East to the West are neither more nor less than the heav- 
enly circuit in which appears to roll the great luminary 
that gives life to mankind, and keeps monsters in darkness, 
or in other words, in death; — ^we pursued our course to- 
ward Gibraltar. 

Now, would you like me to tell you another thing, which 
will doubtless seem to you as fabulous as does the legend 
about Hercules? It is that Gibraltar is the only city — I 
will not say on the coast of Spain, but in all Spain — where 
there is fog. 


93 


94 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


But, you will reply, why this fog rather over Gibraltar, 
than over Algesiras, or Tarifa, or Cadiz? To that I answer, 
unhesitatingly : Because Gibraltar is an English city, and 
because there is fog in England. For, do not deceive your- 
self, it is not nature that makes the fog, it is the English. 

The English make just what they please. It is not with 
the Son of the Earth that they strive, it is with the Earth 
herself. But the beauty of the thing is that they strive, and 
they conquer. The English have made dahlias that smell 
like pinks. They have made cherries without stones, cur- 
rants without seeds. They are in a fair way to make cattle 
without legs. Look at the cattle of the Earl of Durham. 
They now have but one joint ; pretty soon they will have 
no joint at all, and will walk entirely on their bellies. 

So it is with the fog. There was no fog in Gibraltar 
before it belonged to the English ; but the English were 
used to fog, they felt the want of it, so they made it for 
themselves. 

“ But with what ?” you will ask. 

“ Parbleu ! Why with the original elements — with char- 
coal, then !” 

So certain is what I have said the case, that if you ever 
go to Gibraltar, you will acknowledge the exact truth of 
wdiat I have had the honor to tell you ; and that, while 
looking at the mountain-sides for the city drowned in the 
mist, in which it seems engulfed as if in a second sea. 

Let me say, in conclusion, that not from enthusiasm was 
I going to Gibraltar. It was in the accomplishment of 
my double duty as a traveller and as a father. The duty 
of a traveller, — ^because it is impossible to answer people 
who know that you have been through the Straits, and who 
ask you whether you have been to Gibraltar : “ No I have 
not been there.” The duty of a father, — ^because, you know, 
Alexandre was lost at Seville, and did not rejoin us at 


THE ENGLISH IN SPAIN. 


95 


Cadiz ; and if there was any chance of finding him, it was 
at Gibraltar. 

Giraud and Desbarolles had not drawn a very flattering 
picture of Gibraltar. They had both been there, and had 
sworn never to return. But what would* you have ? Man 
proposes, but God disposes. I should tell you that Giraud 
and Desbarolles, with pencil and sketch-book in hand, had 
been taken for the French engineers, disguised as Spaniards, 
and drawing the plan of the fortifications. 

The fact is that, since the English have had Gibraltar, 
they have been about as comfortable as if they had the 
plague, the cholera, or the typhus fever. They can think 
of nothing but Gibraltar, they can dream of nothing but 
Gibraltar, they can dread nothing except for Gibraltar. 
AVhy, it will soon be one hundred years since they were 
attacked by this disease, and acute as it was during the first 
twenty-five years, it has become chronic. 

Once a week the First Lord of the Admiralty dreams 
that Gibraltar is being captured. Then he starts up from 
his sleep, calls for his Secretary, dictates a despatch, and 
sends off a steamship. The steamship* conveys an order to 
build a new fort, to raise a new rampart, to construct a 
new hornwork, and to mount cannons, cannons, cannons, 
cannons. 

So it has come to pass, that there are three thousand 
cannons at Gibraltar, and that a reward of two thousand 
pounds sterling — ^fifty thousand francs ^is promised to 
whomsoever shall find in Gibraltar a place where another 
cannon may be, not necessary, but useful. The consequence 
is that, as it takes at least seven men to serve a piece, a 
garrison of twenty-one thousand men is in case of siege 
required just for the cannon, without counting that, if 
there should be occasion, they would not fail to add more 


cannon. 


96 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Judge how Giraud and Desbarolles were received amidst 
all these cannon. First, an English soldier was let loose 
on them, as if one of them had been Bonaparte and the 
other Napoleon, and as if Gibraltar had been a second 
Saint Helena. Then they were warned not to w^alk in the 
city after eight o’clock in the evening, and then, finally, 
they were notified to leave it before six o’clock in the 
morning. 

Their movements were followed with a spy-glass ; first, 
on the bay of Algesiras, and until they had reached Alge- 
siras ; then on the road from Algesiras to Tarifa, as long 
as the road was visible, and they were visible on the road. 
Then a steamer with engines of four hundred horse-powder 
was despatched to London, for the purpose of announcing 
to the First Lord of the Admiralty, that Gibraltar had 
come near being taken by two French engineers, but that, 
fortunately, it had not been taken. Consols fell, rose, fell 
again, and finally closed at par. Then the people of Lon- 
don were reassured. 

What would happen when at the end of two months, 
Giraud and Desbarolles were seen returning, and that, too, 
on a French corvette ? It was enough to ensure our all 
being sent aboard the hulks, or else transported to Botany 
Bay. At the risk of what might happen, we at seven 
o’clock in the morning cast anchor about half a league 
from Gibraltar. 

My first glance swept the harbor of Gibraltar, and my 
second essayed to penetrate that of Algesiras. I looked 
for a steamship. A steamship in the harbor would lead me 
to hope that Alexandre was in the city. There was not a 
single steamship either in Gibraltar or in Algesiras. hly 
last chance, therefore, was that Alexandre had been landed 
by the “Tagus,” which makes the voyage from Lisbon 
to Valentia, touching at Cadiz, Gibraltar, and Malaga. 


THE ENGLISH IN SPAIN. 


97 


I^fortunately it was necessary to wait for the health- 
officer. 

The Board of Health is composed of a set of very ill- 
favored people, who inquire whence you come, all the while 
holding handkerchiefs to their noses, and taking your pass- 
port with the tongs. The Board of Health has hut one 
fear, that of falling sick. Now, as it is settled that the 
plague is, like all the great scourges, a native of India, hut 
that in coming to Europe it is in the hahit of stopping hy 
the way at Cairo, Tunis, and Tangier, we must have in- 
spired a very lively dread, we who had just arrived from 
Tangier. 

That did not prevent about twenty boats from coming 
and sailing around us ten minutes after our arrival. These 
boats were waiting to take us ashore as soon as the Board 
of Health had declared that we brought neither the plague 
nor the cholera. 

While waiting, I directed the cockswain of one of these 
boats to return ashore, and run to all the inns, inquiring 
W'hether Monsieur Alexandre Dumas, Jr. had arrived. 
He was to receive a reasonable sum if he found the afore- 
said Alexandre Dumas, Jr. I did not promise a very 
large sum, lest he might bring me a false Alexandre. 

These steps taken, we, while waiting for the Board of 
Health, sat down to table. We counted on leaving Gib- 
raltar that same evening. A vessel must leave the port 
by five o’clock in the afternoon, under penalty of not being 
allowed to sail until the next morning, and we did not want 
to lose time in breakfasting there. 

Notwithstanding what Giraud and Desbarolles had told 
us, we persisted in believing that there were more curious 
things to be seen than the cannons and the Highlanders. I 
must tell you that we had seen on the jetty a guard of 
Highlanders, who, at a distance, presented the most pictu- 
9 E 


98 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


resque appearance. But, after all, wlien one has seen^a 
Highlander, it is the same as when one has seen a cannon 
he has seen a thousand. 

We had just gone down into the Captain’s dining-saloon, 
when Vial, in his turn, rapidly descended the companion- 
way, and appeared at the door. 

“AVell,” said he, “they have got him.” 

“Who?” said I. 

“ Your son, pardieu !” 

“My son; where is he?” 

“ He is coming — ^a tall, light-complexioned fellow. I saw 
him with the spy-glass.” 

We rushed up on deck. In fact it was really Alexandre 
who was coming in the boat which I had sent to seek him. 
No sooner did he perceive us than he made such telegraphic 
signals that there could no longer be any doubt in our 
minds as to his identity. 

His coming was, I confess, a great weight lifted from my 
heart. I had not spoken of my uneasiness to my com- 
panions, but I had been really anxious. Nearly fifteen 
days had passed since our separation, and I had had no 
news of him except news pretty alarming. He came along- 
side of the ship. I waited for him on the lowest step of the 
ladder. He threw himself on my neck, as smiling and 
unconscious as a child. “ Ma foi,” said he, “ one day more, 
and you would have found me dead.” 

“Of what?” 

“Of ennui.” 

“ Gibraltar is very terrible, then ?” 

“ It is hideous.” 

“ Truth speaks by the mouth of children,” observed 
Giraud, sententiously. 

I regained the deck, not without having thrown to the 
boatman double the recompense th-at I had promised him. 


THE ENGLISH IN SPAIN. 


99 


The Board of Health having performed its duty, and 
having ascertained "that there was nothing to be said 
against us, we were allowed to go ashore at Gibraltar, which 
we reached ten minutes after having received permission. 


# 


m 


GIBRALTAR. 


rpHE thing that most struck us whilst we were casting 
-L anchor in the Harbor of Gibraltar, was a post of High- 
landers on our left, on a terrace sufficiently elevated to 
cause the sentinel who was walking guard, and two soldiers 
talking at some distance, to be sharply defined on a back- 
ground of orange-colored sky. The sight was a sort of toy, 
which, thanks to the Captain’s spy-glass, amused us very 
much for a few moments. Then we turned again to Gib- 
raltar. 

I can comprehend why the ancients fancied Gibraltar to 
be one of the Pillars of Hercules. It is, indeed, difficult 
enough to understand the presence of this monolith of 
fifteen hundred feet in height, attached to nothing, and 
apparently fallen from the skies or sprouted from the 
earth. Ona’s first impression is of a sphynx lying on 
the edge of the sea, the hind-quarters turned toward 
Europe, the head looking toward Africa, and the paws 
stretched in advance, forming the extreme point of our 
continent. The roughness that one perceives on its skin, 
the warts that cover its paws, the vetches that enamel its 
nose, like that of Cicero, are houses, prisons, forts. The 
ants that swarm over all this mass, ascending, descending, 
creeping, are men. 

Whilst we were fancying to ourselves what enigma this 
colossal sphynx might have suggested to voyaging ships, 
100 


GIBRALTAR. 


101 


the Board of Health, having become satisfied that we had 
neither the cholera, nor the yellow fever, nor the plague, 
gave us authority to land. 

I wished, as usual, to take a gun, but I was notified that 
strangers armed could not enter Gibraltar. I wanted, for 
fear of accident, to discharge the gun at a gull, which 
seemed to me very confident for an English gull, but they 
stopped me, telling me that no firing was allowed in the 
Harbor of Gibraltar. I humbly bowed my head, and got 
into the boat which was to take us ashore. 

From! the boat, we could perceive a new line of fortifica- 
tion being thrown up in the very sea. 

When landing on the jetty, I cast a last glance at 
Algesiras, which lay glittering on the sea-shore, like an 
immense fish showing half of its silvery back above the 
surface of the water. I felt that, in entering Gibraltar, I 
left Spain. 

In fact, Tangier, which we had just visited, is much more 
Spanish than Gibraltar is. Scarce did we pass the gate 
of the latter, when we were transported to England. There 
were no more cobble-stone pavements, no more houses with 
grills and green Venetian-blinds, no more charming patios 
and marble fountains in the midst of the shops. There were 
dealers in cloth, cutlers, gunsmiths, hotels with the Arms of 
Great Britain, pavements on which walked blonde women,, 
streets in which scarlet-uniformed officers rode Ehglish 
horses. Hop-o’-my Thumb had lent us his boots, and at 
each step that we had made since leaving the deck of the 
Véloce, we had cleared seven leagues. 

We entered a restaurant. We ate rare beefsteaks, sand- 
wiches, butter. We moistened the whole with ale and 
porter. Then, after breakfast, we asked for a glass of 
malaga, which they were obliged to send for outside of the 
restaurant. In lieu of it, they served us with tea, to which 


102 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


there was nothing to object. It was the purest flowery- 
pekoe. 

AVe had sent to ask permission of the Governor to pay 
him our respects. He had gone Out on horsebÿ-ck. We 
availed ourselves of the delay to take a survey of the, 
town. On penetrating certain streets, we for an instant 
left England, to draw near to Spain, Africa, or Judea. 
In fact, Spaniards, Arabs, and Jews, form the population 
of Gibraltar. 

I forgot the monkeys. I return to them : let every one 
have his due. The first thing that Pfenchmen generally 
ask, on arriving at Gibraltar, is to be shown the monkeys. 
They are not monkeys in a hut, as at my home ; or in a 
house, as at Monsieur Kothschild’s ; or in a palace, as in the 
Jardin des Plantes ; but monkeys in full liberty ; running 
over the mountain, leaping from rock to rock, bounding 
from tree to tree, and sometimes descending with a somer- 
sault down to the city. In fact, Gibraltar is the only point 
on our continent where the monkeys have chosen their 
domicile. Like the Arabs, they crossed from Abyla to 
Calpe, but, more prudent than they, did not enter Spain or 
France. So they found neither Charles Martel nor Ferdi- 
nand. For that reason they have preserved their con- 
quest. It is true that, intriguers as they are, they have 
found means to make, themselves useful. 

The English brought barometers to Gibraltar, but amid 
the artificial fog, the unfortunate instruments found them- 
selves out of their reckoning. At a loss to understand the 
strife between the vapor and the sunshine, they dared 
to incline neither toward settled weather nor toward foul 
weather, and remained at variable, which was as much as 
to say nothing at all. The monkeys seized their chance 
and turned themselves into barometers. Calpe has two 
slopes, an eastern one and a western one. If the weather 


GIBRALTAR. 103 

is settled, the monkeys pass to the west ; if the weather 
threatens rain or wind, the monkeys pass to the east. 

One can understand, that having been invested with a 
duty so important, the monkeys became as sacred in Gib- 
raltar as the stork is in Holland, or the ibis was in Egypt. 
There is, consequently, a very heavy penalty attached to 
any Gibraltarian’s killing a monkey. 

As the weather was settled, we took our way toward a 
charming walk situated on the western slope of the moun- 
tain. If there was any chance of coming across an ape or 
a baboon, it was on that side. I would give anything in the 
world to be able to say that I saw the least quadrumane ; but 
truth as usual carries the day, and I am forced to confess 
that, spy-glass in hand, I fruitlessly played the part of La 
Fontaine’s astrologer. Happily, there are no wells at 
Gibraltar. 

My persistence in gazing upward did very great injus- 
tice to the walk which I trod under foot; which is cer- 
tainly one of the most singular compounds of earth, trees, 
and flowers, to be found in the world. In fact, the flowers 
come from England, the trees from France, and the earth 
from I know not where. Everything has been carried in 
the holds of ships, on the backs of mules, or in wheel- 
barrows. Unfortunately, everything is sprinkled with can- 
non-balls, studded with cannon, and bristling with bayonets. 

Fortunately, beyond these bayonets, these cannon, these 
balls, there is the sea, the moving, limpid, blue sea, of which 
there is no possibility of changing either the form or the 
color. If it had not been for that, the Straits of Gibraltar 
would for a long time have been gray and turbid like the 
British Channel. 

Slopes of tolerably gentle rise lead up to the top of 
the mountain. Three horsemen were descending one of 
these slopes. ^Ye were signalled to, that they were the 


104 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Governor and two aides-de-camp. We presumed tliat he 
•was returning to his house; so, regretfully bidding adieu to 
the monkeys, of which we had not seen enough, and, 
gladly to the balls, cannon, and sentries, of which we had 
seen too much, we took our way toward the Government- 
House. 

Perhaps you will be astonished at this eagerness which I, . 
an old offender, betrayed to visit any governor whatever, 
and especially the Governor of Gibraltar. That is because 
I forgot to mention the name of this governor. It was Sir 
Robert Wilson. 

In the young, this name which should be held in venera- 
tion by all Frenchmen of my age, perhaps awakens not the 
slightest remembrance. The events in which Sir Robert 
Wilson took part transpired in 1815. 

The roar of the disaster at Waterloo still resounded 
through the world, like unto that of a vast avalanche. 
The Northumberland cast off from the shores of England, 
bearing to Saint Helena that distracted spirit who, in a 
moment of folly, had asked asylum of his most mortal 
enemies. Louis the Eighteenth, absent for three months, had 
just returned to the Tuileries with a proscription-list in his 
hand. On this list three names were inscribed in letters of 
red, in letters of blood. They were the names of Labé- 
doyère, Ney, and De Lavalette. 

These three were condemned to death — ^the first, by a 
council of war, the second, by the Chamber of Peers, the 
third, by a jury. 

Labédoyère and Ney had both fallen. The twice-re- 
peated discharge of musketry had resounded through Paris. 
Of the accused, only Lavalette survived. It was hoped 
that the jury would acquit, or, if it condemned him, that 
he would be pardoned. Both hopes proved fallacious. 

The 21st, 22d, and 23d of September, 1815, were terrible 


GIBKALTAE. 


105 


days for all Paris. On the 20th, the Court of Appeals had 
rejected the application for a new trial. Usually, the 
execution takes place in three days. This time, it was not 
to be by shooting— that death of the soldier, which he 
looks in theîace, for which he gives the signal, and which 
entails no dishonor. This time, it was to be a public 
death, in the Place de la Grève, on the scaffold — the 
hideous death from the executioner, with the plank and 
the chopper. 

Lavalette, as an old aide-de-camp of Napoleon, had 
asked to be shot ; but Louis le Désiré had considered the 
favor too great, and had denied it him. 

It was on the morning of the 24th that the bloody fête 
was to take place. From the break of day, the bridges, 
the quays, the Place de la Grève, began to fill with a con- 
course of people. The scaffold has its frequenters. Inno- 
cent or guilty, it is always a head that falls, and the enter- 
tainment is always the same. Yet, on this occasion, the 
crowd was gloomy, the expectation was silent, the curi- 
osity anxious. Suddenly a strange murmur, a sudden 
shiver, ran through the people, and ended with a burst of 
joyous shouts. 

When, in the morning, the executioner had entered the 
cell to take the condemned man, he had found nothing but 
a woman. That woman of ancient days, that Eoman ma- 
tron of the nineteenth century, was Madame de Lavalette. 
The previous evening she had come to sup with the con- 
demned. She had brought her daughter to see him. The 
two women had conceived a plot, a holy and sacred plot, in 
which the life of a father and a husband was at stake. 

At eight o’clock. Monsieur de Lavalette, dressed in his 
wife’s clothes, had left the Conciergerie, leaning on the arm 
of his daughter. A sedan-chair was in waiting for them 
in the court-yard, and took them away. The chairmen, 

E* 


106 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


who had been found, and who were not in the plot, had 
carried the two women as far as the quay of Orfèvres, 
opposite to the little street called Harley. At that place, 
a man had stopped the chair, had opened the door, and had 
said : “You know, madame, that you have a visit to make 
to the President/' The smaller of the two women had 
remained in the chair, the other one had alighted, had 
taken the arm of the man, and had plunged with him into 
the little street. A moment afterward was heard the rattle 
of a cabriolet departing at full gallop. This was all that 
was known. 

I am mistaken, something else was known. It was that 
Monsieur de Lavalette had not left Paris. So the news of 
his flight was but an episode in this great drama. At any 
moment, the fugitive might be discovered ; and then would 
come the catastrophe, merely delayed, and, owing to the 
very delay, become of breathless interest. 

The expectation was of long duration. It lasted for 
three montbS and a half. At length, toward the 15th of 
January, a report spread that Lavalette was safe ; that he 
had left, not only Paris, but France. Nobody at flrst 
believed in this flight. Its details' were fabulous. Mon- 
sieur de Lavalette had léft Paris at eight o’clock in the 
morning, in a whisky without a top, driven by an English 
colonel. The English colonel had traversed the whole of 
France with Monsieur de Lavalette, and had not left him 
before reaching Mons, that is to say, beyond the frontier, 
and when he was in perfect safety. And every one, to gain 
credence for this incredible event, repeated the name of the 
Englishman who had saved a Frenchman from an enemy 
more pitiless than that Englishman’s fellow-countrymen. 
He is called Sir Robert Wilson. I 

It was this same Sir Robert Wilson, who was the Gov- 
ernor of Gibraltar to whom I was so anxious to pay 


GIBRALTAR. 


107 


a visit. Now you compreliend my persistence, do you 
not? 

Sir I^obert Wilson, a magnificent old man of sixty-six or 
sixty-eight years of age, who still trains his own horses, and 
who daily rides his ten leagues in Gibraltar, received me in 
a delightful manner. I had the imprudence to remark on 
his étagère some Moroccan pottery, which I found on the 
Véloce when I returned aboard. 

If anything could have induced me to stay a day longer 
in Gibraltar, certainly it would have been the pressing 
invitation which Sir Robert Wilson was so kind as to 
extend to me. I left this man of noble and loyal heart, 
with a feeling of deep admiration. May God grant him a 
long and happy life — him, to whom another man owes a 
long and happy one I 

We left Gibraltar at ten minutes of five o’clock. Ten 
minutes later, we should have been prisoners until the fol- 
lowing day. In truth, on touching the deck of the Véloce, 
we breathed as Monsieur de Lavalette must have breathed- 
on touching the pavement of the Quai des Orfèvres. 


THE FRENCH PRISONERS. 


O K the 26th, at four o’clock in the morning, we weighed 
anchor. ^ 

We crossed the Straits in a diagonal line, which, with the 
course that we had steered on the previous evening, made 
an angle of which Gibraltar formed the apex. By nine 
o’clock in the morning, we had arrived in an immense hay. 
On our right were the mountains of Cape Negro, gradually 
diminishing to form a valley, at the end of which appeared 
Tetuan, scarcely rising above the ground, and looking more 
like an immense quarry than like a city. 

During the run, I had had a long talk with the Captain, 
and this is what he told me : 

The haste with which they had sent me the^Veloce had 
diverted her from her design of taking aboard the French 
prisoners that were in the hands of Abd el Kader. 

It was the first time that I had heard this mission of the 
Véloce spoken of aboard. I asked the Captain for the 
explanation in detail. That which, above all, I desired to 
know, was whether we still had sufficient time left to 
accomplish this mission. The following was the state of 
affairs : 

Every one remembers the heroic combat of Sidi Ibrahim, 
and the interest that it awakened in every heart. When 
the combat ended, about on© hundred and fifty men 
remained prisoners in the hands of the Arabs. Of the 
108 


THE FEENCH FRISONERS. 


109 


prisoners, the most prominent was Monsieur Courby de 
Cognord, Major of Hussars. 

The massacre of Mouzaia, so forcibly recounted by the 
trumpeter Roland, who had escaped from it by a sort of 
miracle, had reduced the prisoners to the number-of twelve. 
All hope of ever seeing them again had almost been aban- 
doned, when on the 5th of October, Monsieur Courby de 
Cognord wrote to the Governor of Mellila a letter which 
reached him on the 10th of the same month. In this 
letter. Monsieur Courby de Cognord announced to the 
Governor, that he had just negotiated with the Arabs who 
guarded him the terms of his escape and those of the other 
prisoners, in consideration of the sum of six thousand 
douros, which he begged the Governor to advance to him, 
pledging himself personally for its return. 

The Governor of Mellila had not this sum at his disposal. 
He at once communicated the letter of Monsieur Courby 
de Cognord to the French Consul at Malaga, who, in turn, 
referred it to the Governor of Oran. At the same time 
that he wrote to the French Consul, the Governor of Mel- 
lila caused to be delivered to Monsieur de Cognord a letter 
dated the 17th of October, in which he announced both his 
poverty and the measures which he had just taken to get 
the French authorities to raise the money which he himself 
was not able to raise. 

No sooner did the Governor of Oran receive the despatch 
addressed to him by the French Consul at Malaga, than he 
sent for the Captain of the Véloce, requesting that he 
should be accompanied by one of his officers. The Captain 
immediately presented himself at the house of the Gover- 
nor of Oran. He was accompanied, according to request, 
by Monsieur Durande, a midshipman attached to the vessel. 
The result of the conference was an order given to Captain 
Bérard to repair at once to Mellila, with Monsieur Du- 


110 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


rande, in order to confer with the Governor of that fortress 
on the measures to be taken to bring this important nego- 
tiation to a successful issue. At the same time, •the 
Treasury of Oran entrusted to Captain Bérard the sum of 
thirty-two thousand francs, and, in addition, that of one 
thousand francs for contingencies. 

Here ^re the instructions which were given to Captain 
Bérard. They prove the slight confidence that was gene- 
rally entertained as to the success of the negotiation : 

. “ Oran, September 17. 

“ Captain : 

“ Before your departure I am desirous of repeating that 
I leave you entirely free to use your own discretion in the 
afiair about which we conversed this morning. If, then, 
during your sojourn in Mellila, you should perceive that 
there is nothing to hope for in regard to our poor fellow- 
countrymen, bring back to this place Monsieur Durande 
and the money with which he is entrusted. Even if you 
should find that the Governor is not well-disposed, and that 
it is not possible for Monsieur Durande to stay in Mellila 
without danger of his being robbed, take also upon your- 
self to bring back him and the money. In fine, I commit 
to your excellent judgment the task of conducting the 
aflPair to the best terminatio$i of which it is susceptible. 

“You will find under this envelope the instructions that 
are to govern Monsieur Durande in the execution of his 
mission.’^ 

The Governor of Oran was acquainted with the sus- 
picious character of the Arabs. He had therefore taken 
every precaution to avoid inspiring them with apprehen- 
sions. So the Veloce was merely to touch at Mellila, put 
Monsieur Durande ashore, on the pretext of his ill-health, 
and depart, after having left him or after having taken him 


THE FEEXCH PEISONEES. Ill 

aboard as soon as Monsieur Durande sent word either that 
he could or that he could not remain without difficulty. 

Monsieur Durande returned. The Governor of Mellila 
was unwilling to allow him to remain in the place without 
the express authority of the Governor-General of Grenada. 
It was necessary to await this order. 

Still, the Governor of Mellila believed in the serious 
character of the negotiation. Captain Bérard therefore 
communicated to him the instructions given to Monsieur 
Durande, requesting him to undertake their execution ; a 
proposition which he accepted. On the receipt of the Gov- 
ernçr, the thirty-two thousand francs were left in his hands. 

The same day on which these various conferences took 
place, the Governor of Mellila despatched a messenger to 
Monsieur de Cognord. This messenger was one of the 
Arabs who were employed by him in communicating with 
the natives of the country. He was to carry to the chief 
prisoner a letter stating that the sum demanded for his 
ransom was in the hands of the Governor. The messenger, 
under pretence of being a sick man who came to consult 
the French physician, presented himself at the douar 
where the prisoners were guarded.. One of the prisoners 
was Doctor Cabasse, a fine young man, who had constantly 
forgotten his O’svn sufferings in attending to those of his 
companions. 

The messenger, dragging himself along with difficulty, 
and bemoaning himself as if he were about to expire, was 
allowed to approach the prisoners. The latter, themselves 
dupes of the stratagem, were far from discovering in him a 
harbinger of liberty, when, at the moment that Doctor 
Cabasse^ was feeling the pulse of the Arab, the latter 
slipped into his hand the Governor of Mellila’s note. It 
was at once delivered to Monsieur de Cognord, who an- 
swered by the following note : 


112 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“Your note of the 18th has occasioned us the greatest 
joy. Ketain in your possession the sum of money. We 
hope to be soon conducted near your city, and to be able to 
express to you our sincere gratitude.” 

The Arab received the note in the guise of an envelope 
containing a dose of medicine. It was in the handwriting 
of Monsieur Courby de Cognord, but was not signed. This 
was the only communication which had taken place be- 
tween the Governor of Mellila and Monsieur de Cognord. 

On his part, the Arab chief who had negotiated with 
Monsieur de Cognord the escape of the prisoners, sent on 
the 6th of November, a messenger to the Chief of the Beni 
Bouillafars, who was to share with him in the proceeds of 
the treaty. He bade him repair immediately to the deira, 
so as to take the prisoners and conduct them before the 
fortress. The day after this message was received, its pur- 
port was communicated to the Governor of Mellila by a 
messenger of the Chief of the Bouillafars. The Chief 
notified the Governor that the prisoners could not be de- 
livered excepting between the 23d and the 27th of the 
month — the periçd during which he, with the people of 
his tribe, would be charged with maintaining the line of 
observation established before the city; the tribes that 
dwell in the vicinity of Mellila relieving each other in that 
duty every few days. 

In order not to arouse the suspicions of the Arabs, Cap- 
tain Bérard was, as far as possible, to avoid appearing 
before Mellila. This explains why, for the purpose of em- 
ploying his leisure, he had been ordered to fetch me from 
Cadiz. Yet, in order that some refuge and conveyance 
might be ready for an emergency. Monsieur Dur^de was 
ordered to establish communication between Mellilh and 
Djema r’ Azouat, by means of a felucca sailing under 
Spanish colors. 


THE FRENCH PRISONERS. 


113 


This is what the Captain told me during the run from 
Gibraltar to Tetuan. 

Now we had reached the 26th, which is as much as to 
say thati at the moment, the fate of the prisoners was 
deciding. 

My first impulse was to give up the voyage to Tetuan, 
and as the Véloce was at my disposal, to lay our course 
for Djema r’ Azouat. But the Captain had no faith in the 
Arabs’ performance of their promise. Then, too, the 27th 
of November having been the day fixed by the Chief of the 
Bouillafars, he did not wish to appear in the roadstead of 
Mellila before the afternoon of that day. This is the reason 
why, despite my preoccupation of mind, we had come to cast 
anchor in the harbor of Tetuan. I think, also, that I have 
already mentioned that a messenger had been sent by land 
from Tangier to Tetuan, to notify the Bey that vr e intended 
to visit his city. It was an engagement which it was dif- 
ficult to avoid keeping. In consequence, we made all our 
preparations for going ashore after breakfast. 

Scarcely had we sat down to breakfast, when the officer 
of the deck came into the cabin, and informed us that two 
horsemen, apparently from Tetuan, had stopped on the 
shore, andVere making signals. We went up on deck. 
Two horsemen were in truth caracolling along the shore. 
With the aid of the Captain’s spy-glass, we could see that 
they were dressed in rich costumes. They were waving 
their guns, like men who wish to attract attention. 

The Captain immediately ordered a boat to be lowered, 
to go and inquire if they had come on our account. Then, 
so as to be ready for any contingency, we went down again 
into the cabin to finish our breakfast. So great was our 
curiosity that we returned to the deck before the boat had 
landed. We saw our sailors put themselves into com- 
munication with the Arabs, by means of a boatstwain who 


114 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


spoke Spanisli ; then, after a dialogue of some minutes, the 
Arabs went about-face and at a gallop retook the road to 
Tetuan. The boat returned to us. 

The horsemen were envoys of the Bey of Tetuan. They 
had come to inquire whether we had arrived, and had 
returned to the city to get the horses which had been placed 
at our disposal, and the escort which was to accompany us. 
We had not the patience to wait for this escort. We got 
into the whale-boat, and rowed toward the coast. Half an 
hour after leaving the Véloce we landed. 

We instantly scattered on the beach, gun in hand. A 
little stream near by flowed into the sea. We followed its 
banks, and shot some marsh-fowl. After which, perceiving 
that our escort did not arrive, we resolved to go afoot, like 
simple travellers, toward the city, which we could see glitter- 
ing at the distance of two leagues from us. 

But an unforeseen obstacle stopped us. At a few paces 
from the beach, rose a building. This building we had 
taken for some unimportant fabric — farm-house or mill. It 
served both as a Custom-House and as a guard-house. 
From this combined Custom-House and guard-house issued 
a queer sort of soldiers, who made us a sign that it was for- 
bidden to go beyond. Besides, they added, in bad Spanish, 
that we needed to wait but a few moments, as our escort 
would presently return. 

We had patience for an hour, then for an hour and a 
half. Then, at last, more unfortunate than sister Anne, — 
who, after having seen the fields look green and the horizon 
grow dusty, at least saw two horsemen coming, — we saw 
nothing at all coming ; so we came to the conclusion to let 
Tetuan go, and to return aboard the Véloce. This was a 
great vexation to our painters, who had been promised 
wonders. But, scarcely had I told the cause of my impa- 
tience, that is, related the story of the prisoners, of which 


THE FRENCH PRISONERS. 


115 


they were ignorant, than all shouted with one accord : “ To 
the Veloce ! to the Véloce !’’ In truth, what was the Arab 
city, had it been built even in the times of the Caliph 
Haroun al Raschid, to make it at that moment weigh in the 
balance against the poor little fortress called Mellila ? 

An hour afterward we were running under full sail and 
steam. 

As we were weighing anchor, we, with the aid of the 
Captain^s spy-glass, perceived our escort sallying from the 
gates of Tetuan. 


MELLILA. 


M ellila is, with Ceuta, the last foothold which Spain 
has retained in Africa, 

I have little to say about Ceuta. That ancient princi- 
pality of Count Julien, from which the Moors strode over 
the Straits of Gibraltar, had no importance in my eyes, ex- 
cept from its past history. But, on the other hand, I have 
much to say of Mellila, which was most interesting to us at 
the time of wLich I am speaking. 

Mellila is the Botany Bay of Spain. It is to Mellila 
that Spain sends her convicts. If there exists in the world 
a spot mournful to the exile, it is Mellila — ^Mellila, whence, 
on the horizon, the exile can almost see his country, with- 
out ever being able to reach it. From all other penal 
colonies one may escape, but from Mellila one cannot 
escape, or if he does, he falls into the hands of the Arabs, 
who cut off the head of the fugitive. 

The Arabs, except on market days, are in eternal hos- 
tility with the garrison of Mellila. On other days, they 
approach the foot of the ramparts, to hurl stones at the 
garrison, and sometimes to fire bullets. When the Gov- 
ernor gets angry at this, and closes the gates of Mellila, 
the garrison eat salt beef When he opens the gates, they 
eat fresh meat, but it is always at the expense of some 
theft or murder. And yet eight hundred men are stationed 
there — eight hundred men always forced to stand on the 
defensive, under penalty of being captured some fine night, 
116 


MELLILA. 


117 


and being slaughtered. It is a siege very much longer 
than the siege of Troy. It has lasted for three hundred 
years — a real siege, for, as was mentioned in the preceding 
chapter, each Arab tribe performs in turn the duty of in- 
vesting Mellila. 

One can therefore understand the precautions taken by 
the Governor of the Province of Oran, in regard to the 
thirty-two thousand francs of Monsieur Durande, General 
Cavaignac having already been robbed in a similar ne- 
gotiation. 

During all the day, nothing but the subject of the prison- 
ers was discussed, their chances good or bad ; and, I must 
say, every one considered that the bad far predominated. 

In fact, ^what probability was there that an Arab chief 
could succeed in withdrawing from the vigilance of Abd 
el Kader twelve men of the importance of those in his 
hands ? True, some persons suggested that it was Abd el 
Kader himself who was conducting this negotiation by 
means of an agent. But, then, what probability was there 
that Abd el Kader would surrender for thirty-two thousand 
francs, twelve heads for which he might demand fifty 
thousand crowns ? 

There was, therefore, in this affair, that mysterious and # 
painful uncertainty which usually attends all negotiations 
which are attempted with this crafty and unreliable people. 
Was not the negotiation intended, on their part, to lead to 
the slaughter of the French who had survived the massacre 
of Mouzaïa, and, this time, with some appearance of justice, 
since they would be caught in the flagrant act of escap- 
ing? It seemed, too, almost a miracle that we, arriving 
accidentally in Africa, should have arrived just in time to 
participate in the happy denouement of a drama so gloomy 
down to the last act. I could not believe it, and yet I was 
the only one that hoped. 


118 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Meanwliile, on our right, the coast of Africa unrolled like 
a long dentated ribbon, whilst, on our left, Spain faded into 
the horizon, impalpable as a cloud, transparent as vapor. 
About four o’clock in the afternoon, it disappeared entirely. 

Night came, and with night a heavy swell. Sea-sicknesa 
made its usual ravages. Maquet had gone to his cabin, 
and Giraud to his hammock. We went to visit the sick, 
and found Vial tucking in Giraud. 

Sleep was long in coming. The sea was rough, all the 
chairs and stools moved about, staggering on their feet as 
if they were drunk. 

At dawn on the following day, we were to be at Mellila. 
At seven o’clock, the Captain called us. We were within 
sight of the fortress. * 

The first thing which attracted my attention on reaching 
the deck was that we were sailing under the English flag. 
Hoisting it was a precaution which the Captain had thought 
it best to take. 

We cast anchor. In an instant every one was on deck. 
With the telescope, one could distinctly see two or three 
little vessels moored in the roadstead ; but in none of them 
did the Captain recognize the felucca of Monsieùr Durande. 

. Moreover, there was no sign wEich could indicate whether 
the negotiation had had a successful or an unsuccessful 
issue. On the ramparts we could occasionally see a sentinel 
appearing : that was all. 

The Captain considered as to whether he should send a 
boat ashore, and we were all requesting to go in it, when 
we saw a man appear on the quay, and get into a skiff. 
The skifi* immediately started, and in a few minutes it was 
apparent that it was steering in our direction. The Span- 
ish flag floated at the stern. 

In proportion to its approach, we could distinguish more 
and more clearly that the* man was a Spanish ofiicer. When 


MELLILA. 


119 


he thought himself within view, he made signals to us 
with his handkerchief. But wj^thin sight was far from 
being within hearing. We could easily see the signals, 
but w’hat did they signify ? They might have been as 
readily interpreted: “begone,” as “ come”— “ all is lost,” as 
“ all is well.” 

A quarter of an hour passed in indescribable anguish. 
The beach was completely deserted. Two or three fishing 
barks unconcernedly trailed their nets in the roadstead. 
Only the little boÜ^^seemed animated with a sympathy like 
ours, with a hope and with a fear in harmony with our 
hopes and our fears. Every heart beat, every eye was bent 
on the boat. ISTo one thought of sending to meet it. All 
waited, a prey to the most painful suspense. 

The handkerchief still waved. He who waved it, and 
whose features commenced to be distinguishable, was a 
young man of about twenty-five years of age. The tele- 
scope was an additional aggravation. It brought the man 
nearer, but it could not bring the voice nearer. Yet, the 
expression of his face was joyous. Yet, his gestures 
accorded with his expression. Yet, amid the noise of the 
wind and the sea, we began to hear the faint sound of his 
voice. The voice seemed to shout a single word. He would 
not have shouted if he had had to announce bad news. 
There 'would always be time enough to tell bad news. 

Hot a sound was heard on board. Our breathing was 
pent in our bosoms. It was no longer our eyes that were 
on the strain, it was our ears that were all attention. At 
last, in a moment of calm, between two gusts of wind, 
between two moanings-of the waves, this word reached us: 

“ Saved !” 

A shout responded, “ Saved !” “ Saved !” 

Then, as if every one suddenly feared that he had been 
mistaken, as if every one doubted his own senses, silence 


120 TALES OF ALGERIA. 

ensued, amidst which the word “ saved” again reached our 
ears. ^ 

Our feeling was no longer joy, it was something which 
for an instant resembled delirium. Every breast subsided, 
every eye was suffused with tears, every hand clapped. 

When the young officer came alongside, there were no 
longer ranks. .There were no longer Captain and pas- 
sengers. Every one, at the risk of being precipitated into 
the sea, rushed toward the officer. * He was raised bodily 
and carried up on deck. ^ 

Unfortunately, of all the French language, he knew but 
the single word which, before starting, he had learned for 
the purpose of tossing to us the good news from the greatest 
possible distance. It was then that Desbarolles, our usual 
interpreter, became an important personage. 

First, we wished to know the name of this bearer of good 
tidings. He was Don Luis Cappa, First Adjutant on the 
staff at the fortress. 

The prisoners were saved. This was what was most im- 
portant to know. We made Don Luis repeat it in every 
tone, and in every form. Then he passed to details. This 
is the way in which matters fell out : 

The occupants of the fortress, who had not received news 
from the Bouillafars since the communication in which they 
had been notified that the prisoners would be delivered 
between the 23d and 27th, were waiting with anxiety almost 
equal to ours, when, on the 25th, — that is to say, two days be- 
fore, — ^two Arabs presented themselves about seven o’clock 
in the morning, at one of the moats of the fortress. They 
brought the intelligence that the prisoners were four 
leagues from the city, and that, in consideration of the 
money promised, the transfer would take place on that day 
at Bastinga Point. When the prisoners had reached the 
place, the Governor was to be apprised by the lighting of a 


MELLILA. 


121 


great beacon-fire. One of the Arabs was kept as a hostage, 
the other was dismissed. 

The felucca of Monsieur Durande was in port. Instead 
of waiting for the signal, a resolution was taken to antici- 
pate it. The six sailors were armed to the teeth, and the 
thirty-tAVO thousand francs were put aboard the craft. Don 
Luis Cappa desired to be one in this pleasure-party, and to 
share in the dangers of the expedition. 

The felucca started. The crew pretended to be fishing, 
and followed the coast, at the distance of cannon-range. 
Having reached Bastinga Point, the felucca steered for 
shore. Scarcely had she taken in sail, before four or five 
horsemen appeared, making signals. The felucca at once 
approached Avithin pistol-shot of the coast. At that dis- 
tance, Monsieur Durande and the Arabs could carry on a 
dialogue. The prisoners, the Arabs Said, were half a 
league ofi*. The Arab in the felucca answered that the 
money Avas there, and taking a bag in each hand, he 
shoAved it to his comrades. One of them immediately 
turned rein. Three-quarters of an hour afterward he 
reappeared with the prisoners and the rest of the troop. 

The prisoners, all told, Avere eleven in number — ten men 
and one Avoman. *The Avoman with her daughter, had been 
captured at the gates of Oran. It was then eight years 
since that had happened. One of the prisoners — the reader 
will recollect having been informed that they Avere tAvelve 
in all — had, on the previous night, died of fever. The 
party were on horseback. 

On perceiving them, the young Spanish officer could not 
contain himself for joy. . He leaped into the sea, gained 
the shore, and ran to throw himself into the arms of Mon- 
sieur Courby de Cognord. It was a great imprudence, for 
nothing Avas yet concluded, and the Spaniards of Mellila, 
as I have said, are at Avar with the neighboring tribes. If 

F 


11 


122 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


no arrangement were made, which was very possible, Don 
Luis would remain as a prisoner. It was the first observa- 
tion which Monsieur de Cognord addressed to him, after 
having pressed him to his heart. “In Heaven’s name,” 
said he, “ return aboard.” 

“ Oh, ma foi !” cried Don Luis, in his youthful enthu- 
siasm, “ on leaving Mellila, I swore that you should return 
with me, or that I would go with you.” 

Don Luis therefore remained among the prisoners. 

Nevertheless, the Arabs appeared to act in good faith, 
and to be as eager to receive the money of Monsieur 
Durande as he was to get the prisoners. They sent one 
of their chiefs aboard. He verified the amount of money 
in the bags. There were six bags — five containing one 
thousand douros, and one bag containing one thousand one 
hundred douros, wLich, together, made just the sum re- 
quired — ^thirty-two thousand francs. The Chief returned 
ashore with three bags, and one-half of the prisoners were 
sent aboard the felucca. Then the rest of the ransom was 
taken, and, in exchange, the rest of the prisoners were free 
to go rejoin their companions. 

They did not feel really saved until they found them- 
selves in the midst of the French, until they felt under foot 
the planks of a French boat, until each man grasped a 
good rifle. 

Fourteen months and twenty days had elapsed since they 
were taken prisoners by the Arabs. 

The captives had returned to Mellila, had spent the 
night there, and about two o’clock on the following day, 
the felucca had set sail for Djema r’ Azouat. 

The captives ransomed were, Lieutenant-Colonel Courby 
de Cognord; Lieutenant Larrazée; Second Lieutenant 
Thomas ; Doctor Cabasse ; Lieutenant Marin, of the 15th 
Light Infantry; Quartermaster Barbut, of the 2d Hussars; 


MELLILA. 


123 


Têtard, hussar, Metz, hussar ; Trotté, chasseur of the 8th 
Battalion ; Michel, chasseur of the 41st Regiment of the 
Line ; the woman, Thérèse Gilles. 

The officer who on the preceding day had died, on the 
very eve of being restored to liberty, was Lieutenant 
Hillerin. 

These are the facts in all their exactness, and as I wrote 
them from the dictation of Don Luis Cappa himself, Des- 
barolles serving as interpreter, and a cabin-boy as desk. 


DJEMA R’ AZOUAT. 


T he prisoners who, with very pardonable impatience, 
had not been willing to wait for the arrival of the 
Véloce, had therefore eighteen hours’ start of us. But the 
wind was ahead, the felucca was light. There were three 
things to be apprehended for the prisoners — ^the first, that 
their boat would be wrecked oflf shore ; the second, that 
she would be cast away on shore ; the third, that the Arabs 
would give chase with five or six boats, and thus, after 
having received the money, retake the men. It is true 
that the latter would have fought to the last man, rather 
than be recaptured, but that had not been the object of the 
negotiation. 

• Captain Bérard lost not an instant. Steam had been 
kept up in the boilers. We embraced Don Luis, and took 
leave of the worthy young man with many shakes of the 
hand. Don Luis got aboard of his boat, and the order 
was given for us to start under full steam. 

Unfortunately, as I have said, the Véloce was not a fast 
vessel. We needed from twenty-eight to thirty hours to go 
from Mellila to Djema r’ Azouat. Thirty hours, and the 
eighteen hours that the prisoners had had the start of us, 
made forty-eight hours. It was therefore probable that we 
should not meet them before reaching Djema r’ Azouat. 

But, at Djema r’ Azouat, they would most assuredly 
stop, and we should be able to join them. The opinion of 
all our officers was that Monsieur Durande was too good a 
124 


DJEMA tJ AZOUAT. 


125 


sailor to expose his passengers to a longer voyage in so 
frail a craft. 

The sea became more and more rough, and the wind 
more and more adverse. In passing among the Zapharine 
Islands the Captain placed a man as a lookout in the fore- 
top. 

Night came swiftly, with gloom and rain. By daylight, 
we found ourselves about opposite Malluenas Bay. The 
night had passed without our having seen the least sign of 
a felucca. 

About eleven o’clock we doubled Cape Très Forças. We 
coasted along near enough not to let anything escape be- 
tween us and the shore. We saw the mouth of the M’ 
Louïa, which marks the limit of the Empire of Morocco, 
and flows parallel with the Isly. 

After the oued M’ Louïa, came Cape Melonia. This is 
the Cape where General Cavaignac hemmed in the Arab 
tribe of the Beni Snanen, which had deceived Colonel Mon- 
tagnac with a false message, and caused the disaster of Sidi 
^Ibrahim. Five or six thousand Arabs were slaughtered, 
or driven into the sea. Our soldiers, furious, gave no 
quarter. General Cavaignac came near rendering himself 
im popular in the army, by saving the remnant of this 
unhappy tribe. 

The trumpeter Boland, the only one who had escaped 
the massacre of M’ Louïa, was in this affair. He had a 
terrible revenge to take. He took it that evening, and de- 
clared himself satisfied. He himself slew more than thirty 
Arabs. 

• On approaching Djema r’ Azouat, two feluccas attracted 
our attention. One of them was keeping close along the 
rocks, to enter the port ; the other was making strenuous 
efforts to leave it. With the aid of the telescope, we could 
see plainly that they were merely fishing-vessels. 


12G 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Djema r’ Azoiiat began to come into view. It extended 
to the southward of the mountains, with some houses newly 
erected, and its camp, like a nest, sheltered in a bend of 
the hills. Beyond these hills are two great memorials, two 
memorials equal to Thermopylæ and Marathon — the com- 
bat of Sidi Ibrahim, and the battle of Isly. 

We cast anchor about half a league from Djema r’ 
Azouat. There was a great bustle on the quay, which 
horsemen traversed in every direction. One could see the 
streets of the new city crowded. The camp seemed de- 
sel-ted. 

Several whalers were at anchor in the port. Our gaze 
vainly sought among them for Monsieur Durande’s felucca. 
In the face of all probability, the prisoners seemed to have 
pursued their course toward Oran. 

Scarcely had we cast anchor, when the bustle ashore re- 
doubled. Troopers and foot-soldiers ran to the shore, mes- 
sengers bearing urgent orders seemed to traverse the whole 
of that nano at a gallop. The Veloce was evidently the^ 
object of general attention. 

In about ten minutes, a boat was launched and steered 
toward us. * She carried the harbor-master. At the greatest 
distance at which words could be exchanged, we asked the 
news. 

The prisoners had stopped at Djema r’ Azouat, thus, at 
the end of fourteen months accomplishing the cycle of their 
Odyssey. 

During those fourteen months, how many were their suf- 
fering, dangers, griefs, fears, hopes ! During those fourteen 
months, how many were their yearnings toward their coun- 
try, which they had lost all hope of ever seeing ! and of 
which they had just found in Djema r’ Azouat the shadow, 
a corner of France transported into Africa ! 

Monsieur Durande had continued his course to Oran, to 


DJEMA r’ AZOUAT. 


127 


announce there the deliverance of the prisoners. One can 
understand that the fine young fellow had not been willing 
to lose a moment in announcing in person to General 
d’ Arhoville the happy dénouement of a drama in which he 
had borne one of the principal parts. 

It was about two o’clock in the afternoon. We wished 
to depart that very evening : there was no time to lose. The 
Captain ordered his boat. The most eager, and I was 
' among these, leaped into the boat of the harbor-master, and 
we set out for the shore of Djema r’ Azouat. The sea was 
terribly rough. Although it started afterward, the Cap- 
tain’s boat soon overtook and distanced ours. Despite their 
enthusiasm, which was at least equal to ours, Maquet and 
Giraud were in a deplorable condition of sea-sickness. I 
saw them pass, one tumbled over backward, the other lean- 
ing forward. 

Five minutes after the Commander, we landed. The first 
two faces that I saw were the faces of acquaintances — I 
had almost said the faces of friends. One of them was 
that of Major Picaud, the other that of Colonel Trembley. 
These officers confirmed the news brought by the harbor- 
master. Monsieur de Cognord and his companions had 
arrived at eleven o’clock in the morning. They had been 
received amid general rejoicing, and that evening a great 
banquet was to be given in their honor. 

We proceeded toward the city. Thus they call the few 
houses scattered over the sandy shore of Djema r’ Azouat. 
We passed through a pen filled with cattle carried off dur- 
ing a late razzia. With the cattle, the fleas also had been 
carried off, so that we reached the city gates, black up to 
our knees. 

In the square we met Colonel McMahon, commander 
of the troops. He invited us to the banquet which was to 
be given that evening — an invitation which we took good 


128 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


care not to decline. Then we were conducted to the most 
elegant one of the barracks, where we waited for Monsieur 
de Cognord and his companions, to whom the news of our 
arrival had been sent. Our hearts beat almost as quickly 
as at Mellila. 

In truth, it is strange to witness how the most opposite 
natures, the sternest hearts, the most skeptical minds, soften 
in great emotions. Here were six natures, six hearts, six 
minds. Well! when the sound of footsteps was heard, 
when the door opened, when Monsieur Courby de Cognord 
was announced, all eyes moistened with tears, all arms 
extended, moved by the same sentiment. 

Yet the greater emotion was felt by us. For two days, 
Monsieur Courby de Cognord and his companions had been 
embraced and applauded. We were to them fellow-country- 
men : that was all. They were to us heroes and martyrs. 

I proposed that, in the interval before dinner, which was 
preparing under an immense barrack erected for the pur- 
pose, we should make a pilgrimage to the tomb of brave 
Captain Géreaux, the hero of the marabout of Sidi 
Ibrahim ; who led back his column within half a league of 
Djema r’ Azouat, and was there killed with the remnant 
of four days of battle. The proposition was acceded to 
unanimously. 

In an instant, six or eight horses were placed at our dis- 
posal, and a part of the staff offered to accompany us. The 
prisoners went with us. The survivors rightly ow^ed this 
visit to the dead. To us, it was a marvellous spectacle to 
see rejoined, under our eyes, the ends of this heroic chain. 

The tomb of Captain Géreaux is situated in the valley of 
the oued Rizi, under gigantic clumps of the fig-tree, in the 
place where he was found dead in the midst of his com- 
panions. The road leading thither is charming, closed in 
as it is by w^ooded mountains, and shaded by fig-trees as 


DJEMA r’ AZOUAT. 


129 


large as our largest oaks. A little stream meanders almost 
parallel with the road. 

All along the way we met outposts, with arms stacked, 
as if the enemy were there. In fact the enemy is there, 
always there ; invisible, it is true, but all the more to be 
dreaded because he suddenly appears in the place where he 
is least expected. In fact, all around Djema r’ Azouat are 
the traitor-tribes of the Beni Snanen, the Souhalias, the 
Ouled Bizi ; false friends, double-faced allies, who caress 
with one hand, and strike with the other. 

All along the way, we heard amid the tall grass, the 
lowing of oxen and cows, or the tinkling hells of sheep ; 
then we sometimes saw slowly rising, standing motionless, , 
scanning us, and reseating himself, one of those herdsmen 
whose guns are always concealed in the nearest bushes ; who 
act as spies for tribes ever ready to revolt, and who, if they 
see some over-confident soldier straggling through the coun- 
try, at once drop the crooked staff, with which they look 
like ancient shepherds, to seize the knife of the assassin. 

Suddenly, we perceived a great open place, in the midst 
of which, shaded by clumps of fig-trees, rose a sort of 
Boman mound, toward which one could advance by a path 
the pavement of which formed a framing to the mound. 
It was the tomb of Captain Géreaux. 

Alas ! amid our daily preoccupation of mind, amid our 
legislative contests, amid our scandalous lawsuits, — things, 
events, and even men, pass so quickly, that some day we 
shall forget — if they are not already forgotten — the details 
of this magnificent combat, which we can place in com- 
parison with all that antiquity has bequeathed us of the 
heroic and the grand. 

Let us then cast an additional page to the wind that 
whirled the leaves of the Sybil of Cumæ ; which bears all 
human things toward obscurity, nothingness, oblivion. 


THE COMBAT OF SIDl IBRAHIM. 


T he French were informed of the presence of Abd el 
Kader ,on the frontier of Morocco. 

Among- thé number of tribes which seemed to have 
frankly rallied to our standard, was the tribe of the Sou- 
halias. This tribe was powerful, and orders had been given 
to maintain our friendly relations with it by every means 
possible. But the more pledges of friendship which it had 
until then given us, the more it had to dread the vengeance 
of the Emir. We were therefore bound to support it; for 
in supporting it, we should retain it as an ally, whilst, on 
the contrary, in abandoning it, we should convert it into an 
enemy. 

In the mean while, and as Colonel Montagnac had de- 
cided on following the more generous course, an Arab ap- 
peared in the camp. He came in the name of Trahri, 
Chief of the Souhalias. Trahri was more devoted than 
ever — so he said — ^to the French cause. The approach of 
danger had served but to increase his friendship. If the 
garrison of Djema r’ Azouat wished to make a sortie, and 
come lay an ambuscade in his tribe, he pledged himself to 
deliver Abd el Kader. 

The dream of every commander of a post is to capture 
the Emir — a glorious dream which has generally ended in 
death. It was one which had constantly engrossed the 
mind of Colonel Montagnac. Often had his friends heard 
him say, “ I will take the Emir, or die in the attempt.” He 
130 


THE COMBAT OF SIDI IBEAHIM. 


131 


therefore resolved, as I have said, to go to the aid of the 
Souhalias. That very day he issued his orders. 

The garrison was feeble, and, at that period, entirely 
surrounded by enemies. The advanced posts consisted of 
two or three block-houses, distant scarcely five hundred 
paces from the city. Colonel Montagnac resolved to weaken 
the garrison as little as possible. He drew up a list of 
those who were to accompany him. Their number amounted 
to four hundred and twenty-one men. 

The 8th Battalion of Chasseurs d’Orléans furnished 
ten officers and three hundred and forty-six men ; the 2d 
Hussars, three officers and sixty-two men. The officers were 
Colonel Montagnac; Froment Costé, Major of Infantry; 
Courby de Cognord, Major of Cavalry; Adjutant-Major 
Hutertre, Captain de Chargère, Captain Géreaux, Captain 
Burgaud, Captain Gentil Saint Alphonse, Lieutenant Klein, 
Lieutenant de Baymond, Lieutenant Chapdelaine, Lieu- 
tenant Larrazee, Adjutant Thomas, Doctor Bosagutti. 

Would that I could inscribe on this paper, and that the 
paper were bronze, the names of the four hundred and 
eight soldiers who followed these thirteen leaders. 

On Sunday, the 21st of September, 1845, at ten o’clock 
at night, the column silently emerged from Djema r’ 
Azouat. They who remained regretted to remain, they 
who departed were proud to depart. 

Until two o’clock in the day the troops marched toward 
the west. They then halted, piled arms, and lay down 
behind them. That night there slept above the sod 
three hundred men who, in three days, would sleep be- 
neath it. 

At eight o’clock in the morning they breakfasted, and at 
nine o’clock marched. At ten o’clock they encamped near 
the oued Tarnana, where they were to pass the day. 

Whilst they were at breakfast, an Arab had appeared, 


132 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


making friendly signs. He had been conducted to the 
Colonel, who immediately called for the interpreter. 

The Arab was a messenger who came to notify the 
Colonel, that the Emir was advancing with a large force, 
and was directing his march on Bou Djenam. The Colonel 
at once summoned the two superior officers. They were 
Major Froment Coste, and Major Courby de Cognord. He 
communicated the news to them, and asked their opinion. 
Their opinion was that the march should be continued. It 
was in accordance with this advice that camp was pitched 
at the oued Tarnuna. 

There, a second messenger arrived. He bore a letter 
from Monsieur Coffyn, Captain of Engineers, and ad 
mterim commander of the fortress of Djema r’ Azouat. 
The letter -was originally from Commander de Barrai. Its 
object was to ask Colonel Montagnac for three hundred 
men called for by General Cavaignac, who was then on the 
route of Ain Kobeira. 

The Colonel again had Messieurs Froment Coste and 
Courby de Cognord summoned, and he communicated to 
them the letter of Commander Barrai, as he had commu- 
nicated to them the intelligence brought by the Arab. But 
in placing it before them, he said, “ Messieurs : this letter 
has been delayed twenty-five or thirty hours. The Com- 
mander asks me for three hundred men of the Battalion. 
This detachment would reduce our force to one hundred 
and eight men, and, consequently, we should be compelled 
to retrace our steps, which, after the intelligence that we 
have received, would be shameful for us, since we should 
seem to fly the combat. My opinion is that we ought to 
remain in the position in which we are: is it yours?” 

' The opinion of the two officers coincided with that 
of the Colonel. Fate impelled them to their destruc- 
tion. 


THE COMBAT OF SIDI IBKAHIM. 133 

At the moment when they were preparing to answer 
Monsieur Coffyn, the vedettes of the Hussars, which were 
stationed on a little knoll about an eighth of a league off, 
perceived some Arab horsemen coming around the moun- 
tain opposite to the camp which had just been .pitched. 
The horsemen were on the oued Taauli. 

The messenger was kept until it could he ascertained 
what these Arabs meant. To accomplish this, Colonel 
Montagnac gave orders to Major Courby de Cognord, to 
send his acting- Adjutant, Chief-Quartermaster Barbut, 
and some men, to ascertain what was transpiring. ^ 

Scarcely had the Adjutant joined the vedettes, when the 
Arabs who had just been discovered, put their horses to a 
gallop, to try to intercept the retreat of the vedettes to 
camp. These Arabs were about thirty in number. The 
Adjutant and the vedettes fell back with sufficient rapidity 
to escape injury from a few shots fired at them. Aftei 
firing these shots, the Arabs wheeled about, and disappeared ^ 
in a depression in the ground. 

Hostilities had commenced. To retire was almost to fly. 
A letter was written to Captain Coffyn, in which he was 
informed of the situation; and a messenger bearing the 
letter set out for Djema r’ Azouat. 

An hour later, fifty Arab horsemen were seen on the 
mountain where they had first appeared. Amonsf them 
were several Moroccans, recognizable by their red caps. 

The Colonel advanced three hundred paces in front of 
the camp, in order the better to observe these new-comers. 
He immediately ordered the vedettes to be replaced. As 
night approached, the vedettes were recalled to camp, and 
posts of the 8th Battalion were placed in front of the lines. 
At the same time. Colonel Montagnac informed the two 
chief officers, that camp would be struck about eleven 
o’clock at night, and that, previously, great fires would be 
12 


134 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


lighted, so as to make the enemy believe that no movement 
was taking place. 

At eleven o’clock, the little column began its march 
with the least noise possible, advancing in the direction of 
Carcor.. But scarcely had it left camp, w^hen it received 
two shots. These were fired at the rear-guard, and wounded 
no one ; but they indicated that the troops had not been 
able to conceal from the Arabs the movement which had 
just been executed. A moment afterward, a third shot 
flashed on the right flank of the column. It was observed 
on all sides. 

The march continued without further incident, as far as 
Carcor, where the troops bivouacked. The whole of the 
march Avas made by night. The distance accomplished 
was scarcely two leagues. The troops were then about five 
leagues from Djema r’ Azouat. 

At daybreak, the Arabs w^ere discovered. They were 
scattered on the crests of the hills opposite camp, and 
appeared to number seven or eight hundred, all horse- 
men. They had for the most part alighted, the better to 
observe us. ^ 

At seven o’clock, the Colonel ordered Monsieur Courby 
de Cognord to mount the sixty-tAVO hussars ; and ordered 
Captain de Chargère, and Lieutenants Larrazêe, and de 
Bay mend, to folloAV him Avith the 5th, 6th, and 7 th Com- 
panies. Three squads of riflemen, under Sergeant Bernard, 
AA^ere to join them. These forces AA^ere a little more than 
two-thirds of the troops. Two companies, the 2d and the 
riflemen, under Major Froment Coste, Avere to remain in 
charge of the camp, where all the ammunition and bag- 
gage had been left. 

The Colonel put himself at the head of the little column, 
composed of three hundred and tAA^enty or three hundred 
and thirty men, and advanced about the distance of a 


THE COMBAT OF SIDI IBRAHIM. 


135 


league. There he halted. He was in face of the enemy. 
The enemy appeared three times as numerous as our side. 

To avoid fatiguing the horses, the hussars had, up to this 
point, led them by the bridle. Having reached it, the 
Colonel ordered the hussars to mount, and, whilst the 
infantry remained with arms grounded, in the place where 
it had halted, he, with sixty cavalrymen, charged about one 
thousand Arabs who were in his front. 

Tell such a thing to any people but ours, and they would 
believe the thing impossible, or the men mad. 

Before reaching the enemy, ten or twelve men had fallen 
under the musketry. The cavalry dashed into the wall of 
fire. After a fight lasting ten minutes. Colonel Montagnac, 
Major Courby de Cognord, Captain Gentil Saint Alphonse, 
and thirty men who were left, were obliged to retreat. But, 
half-way, they were joined by the infantry, which had 
rushed forward on the double-quick. They were then 
about two hundred and eighty men against one thousand. 
They could retake the ofiensive, and they did retake it. 
The Arabs in their turn gave way. They were pursued as 
our soldiers pursue. 

Suddenly, at the moment when the little column had just 
entered a ravine. Colonel Montagnac saw descending from 
all the surrounding crests troops of horsemen and Kabyles, 
whose existence had not been even suspected, concealed as 
they had been in depressions of the ground. The ColoneT 
realized that victory was no longer probable, nor even 
retreat possible. He made his dispositions to die bravely. 

Yet there was still an opening. A hussar darted through 
this clear space to carry an order to Major Froment Coste 
for the support of one of his companies. Then the drum 
beat, the trumpet sounded, and, with sabre and bayonet, the 
troops ‘dashed up the left slope of the ravine, took position 
and formed in square. 


136 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


At the moment when Colonel Montagnac was taking his 
place in the middle of the square, a ball struck him in the 
forehead. He fell mortally wounded. “Major Froment 
Coste,” said he, “ Major Froment Coste.’' 

Chief-Quartermaster Barbut departed at a gallop, to 
execute the last order of his Colonel. The Arabs saw him 
going, and darted in pursuit; but they were obliged to 
turn the mountain-side, while he followed the ravine. 
More than five hundred shots were fired at him, hut not 
one touched him. Amid a trail of flame and smoke, he 
disappeared in the direction of the camp. 

Ten minutes afterward. Colonel Montagnac, entirely 
hors de combat, resigned the command to Monsieur Courby 
de Cognord. At the Colonel’s side, fell, almost at the 
same time as he. Captain de Chargère and Lieutenant 
de Eaymond. 

There were left about forty-five hussars. Major Courby 
de Cognord, and Captain Gentil Saint Alphonse, put them- 
selves at their head to make a last charge, and by this 
desperate efibrt disengage the column, which the balls were 
decimating at long range. At the moment when they 
plunged into the gulf, fatal as that of Curtius, the Emir 
was descending the mountain. He was recognizable by 
his standard,* and by his regular soldiers. 

At fifty paces from the beginning of the charge, the 
cavalrymen were reduced to thirty ; at twenty paces fur- 
ther, they were forced to halt. Suddenly, Monsieur Courby 
de Cognord was seen to roll in the sand. His horse had 
just been killed. The hussar. Têtard, at once leaped from 
his horse, and gave it to his Major, who found himself thus 
momentarily remounted : in ten minutes, the second horse 
was killed. 

Then the whole plain became covered with Arabs and 


THE COMBAT OF SIDI IBRAHIM. 137 

Kabyles. Scarcely, amidst the white burnooses and the 
dense smoke, could one discover the two points on which 
this double handful of brave men were dying. 

During this time, the first messenger had reached the 
camp. He found Major Froment Coste already starting 
with the 2d Company. At two hundred yards off, appeared 
the second messenger. One announced the danger, the 
other the doom. The Major and his sixty men rushed for- 
ward on the double-quick, leaving in charge of the baggage 
Captain Gereaux and his riflemen. 

The musketry of the Arabs was heard, and amid it 
crashed the regular discharges of our soldiers. But at 
each discharge, the firing grew weaker. A quarter of a 
league ofl* the hussar, Metz, was discovered defending him- 
self against five Arabs. They were what remained of 
eight who had pursued him at the moment when he was 
dressing the wound of his officer. Monsieur Klein, who had 
just been hurt. He had at first defended himself with his 
ofiicer’s two pistols, which he had thrown away after having 
fired . them ; then he had defended himself with his own 
pistols, after that, with his rifle, and, finally, with his sabre. 
At the approach of the company led by Monsieur Froment 
Coste, the five Arabs took to flight. 

After half an hour’s march, the musketry, which had 
continually slackened, ceased entirely. Monsieur Froment 
Coste halted. He knew that all was over. They to whose 
rescue he was proceeding, were dead. At that time the 
harvest of heads was reaping. 

Major Froment Coste immediately ordered a retreat. 
But one chance of safety remained. It was to regain the 
camp, and rejoin the company of Géreaux. The troops 
faced about. 

But the blood-thirsty reapers had finished, and were 
spreading over the plain at full gallop. In an instant the 
12 


138 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


company was surrounded, and the second massacre com- 
menced. 

The Major had barely time to order the soldiers to form 
a square. The manœuvre was executed, under fire from 
ten thousand Arabs, as if it had been executed in the 
Champ de Mars. 

Of all these men, only one showed, — not a sign of fear, — 
îjome slight symptom of regret. It was a young chasseur 
of twenty years of age, named Ismael. He exclaimed : 
‘‘ Oh, Major we are lost !” 

The Major smiled on the poor child. He realized 
that, at twenty years of age, one knows so little of life, 
that one has good right to regret its loss. 

“ How old are you,” asked the Major. 

“ Twenty-one years,” was the reply. 

“ Well I you will then have eighteen years less to sufier 
than I have suffered. Look at me. You are about to see 
how a man can fall with heart undaunted and with head 
erect.” 

He had scarcely ceased speaking when a ball struck him 
in the forehead, and he fell as he had promised to fall. 
Five minutes afterward. Captain Burgaud fell. 

“ Come on, my friends,” said Adjutant Thomas, “forward 
a step. Let us die on the bodies of our ofiicers.” 

These were the last distinct words that were heard. The 
death-rattle succeeded, then the silence of death. The 
2d Company had, in its turn, disappeared. Nothing re- 
mained but the company of Captain Géreaux, left* in charge 
of the camp. 


THE DEFENCE OF THE MARABOUT OF SIDI IBRAHIM. 


A T the first rattling of the musketry, Captain Gé- 
reaux and Lieutenant Chapdelaine, both officers of 
the Company of Kiflemen, had taken position on the height 
which commanded the camp ; not only for the purpose of 
having a more extended view, but of holding a more 
advantageous position. 

But on that plain, all studded with knolls, wrinkled with 
ravines, enveloped in smoke, nothing could be distin- 
guished clearly. The two officers were therefore obliged, in 
basing their conjectures, to trust much more to their ears 
than to their eyes. 

The same indications which had shown. Major Froment 
Coste that the corps commanded by Colonel Montagnac 
and Monsieur Courby de Cognord had been destroyed, 
announced to Captain Géreaux the destruction not only 
of that, but of the company of Major Froment Coste. 
The musketry was by degrees heard to subside. Then suc- 
ceeded silence, broken only by the shouts of the victors ; 
and then, at last, smoke rose slowly toward the reddened 
skies. Captain Géreaux realized that he had with him all 
that was left of the column. 

He looks around him. Against this cavalry retreat is 
impossible. In ten minutes they will have cut ofi* his 
retreat to Djema r’ Azouat. But, five hundred paces ofi’ is 
a marabout, the marabout of Sidi Ibrahim. It is a refuge 
with the aid of which they can, if not conquer, at least 

139 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


^id on the defensive. If they can reach the marabout, 
they will not escape death, but they will at least sell their 
lives dearly. 

But the Arabs were already occupying the marabout. 

The troops rush forward on the double-quick, with bayo- 
nets levelled. The Arabs are dislodged, and three or four 
French corpses serve as steps for scaling the little wall. On 
their side, the Arabs have lost eight or ten men. The 
marabout is carried. 

Captain Géreaux and Lieutenant Chapdelaine imme- 
diately prepare for the defence of the place. They cause 
loop-holes to be cut at breast-height in the wall which they 
have just leaped; and as with our soldiers the picturesque 
is always blended with gallantry, one brave fellow. Cor- 
poral Lavaissière, improvises a flag, which, amidst a storm 
of bullets, he plants on top of the marabout. 

This feat is executed amid the soldiers’ shouts of delight. 
Strange thing ! This tricolored shred that unfurls above 
the soldiers, in the breeze that comes from the direction of 
the Arabs, — seeming in consequence, to announce the fate 
of the besieged, — is palladium, king, country! In the 
shadow of his country’s flag, more fitly than elsewhere, the 
soldier dies ! 

In a quarter of an hour crowds of Kabyles surround the 
marabout. They advance even to the foot of the wall, to 
carry off the mules which the troops have not been able to 
get inside. It is true that the French bullets search their 
masses, and that, in return for the razzia, the Arabs leave 
thirty dead on the ground. 

It is with the coolness of men who know that for them 
all is over, and who have smilingly wrung each other’s 
hands, that each soldier sights and drops his man. Lieu- 
tenant Chapdelaine especially, an excellent shot, has taken 


defence op the marabout op SIDI IBRAHIM. 141 

the rifle and cartridges of one of his dead soldiers, and, in 
advance, he designates the men that he will pick off. 

At this moment a more eager mass of Arabs advances 
from the westward. Reaching a point about four hundred 
metres from the marabout, it opens, and discloses the Emir 
lollowed by all his horsemen. 

His coming is at once saluted by a discharge of musketry. 
Five or six Arabs fall around him, and he himself is 
wounded in the, cheek by a ball. He makes a gesture. 
Ihere is a halt. All look, and perceive that he is dictating 
a tetter. Then on both sides, by tacit mutual consent, the 
nring ceases. 

A horseman leaves the group around the Emir, ostensibly 
casts away his arms, and approaches, holding a tetter above 
his head. In an instant he is at the foot of the wall. He 
delivers the tetter to Captain Géreaux, and seats himself 
to await the answer; heedless of the corpses, friends or 
enemies which surround him, heedless, in appearance, of his 
own life. 

Captain Géreaux reads in a loud voice : 

Abd el Kader summons the besieged to surrender. He 
informs them that he already holds several prisoners, and 
that all prisoners shall be well treated.” 

The letter finished, Géreaux looks around, collects, not 
the votes, but the smiles, and cries: “Never will we sur- 
render— say you not so, my friends ? We are few in num^ 
her it is true, but we are enough to defend ourselves ; anji, 
besides, succor is at hand !” ^ 

The riflemen receive these words with cheers. All ex- 
claim that they would rather die than surrender. And in 
lead-pencil, on the back of the Emir’s letter. Captain 
Géreaux sends back that answer. 

The Arab returns to Abd el Kader. But the latter does 
not look upon the- refusal as formal ; and the Arab, with 


142 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


another letter, passes over the space separating the be- 
siegers from the besieged. The second letter is even more 
pressing than the first ; but this time, the Arab does not get 
even an answer. 

He returns to the Emir, and again returns to us, bearing 
a third letter, this time written in Arabic ; in which the 
Emir says that it is in vain for the French to tiy to defend 
themselves, and that he will have them soon. 

Géreaux replies that he commits himself to the pro- 
tection of God ; that so much parleying is wearisome, and 
that he is waiting for them to reopen their fire. 

Scarce is this response delivered, when the Emir and his 
horsemen retire beyond rifle-shot, and let the Kabyles re- 
sume the attack. 

The musketry at once rattles on the four faces of the 
marabout, for it is completely invested. But soon the as- 
sailants perceive that they are wasting their powder. Their 
bullets flatten on the wall, which they cannot damage. 
Then the character of the projectile changes. They ap- 
proach under our fire, and rain into the marabout a shower 
of stones. To get rid of the stpnes, and to husband their 
ammunition, the riflemen now return the stones. The fight 
becomes like one of the ancient conflicts, such as Homer 
describes ; where the heroes lay dowm their arms to heave 
up rocks. Kight falls and temporarily ends the struggle. 

Abd el Kader, who has seen all, then moves ofi*, and goes 
to pitch his camp at about twenty minutes’ march from the 
marabout. The camp is on the instant surrounded by a 
triple cordon of posts and sentinels. 

Night passes tranquilly. According to their habit, the 
Arabs remain inactive during darkness. But, at the break 
of day, hostilities recommence. They continue until ten 
o’clock in the morning ; but, as on the preceding day, with- 
out a single Arab’s being able to scale the wall. At that 


DEFENCE OF THE MARABOUT OF SIDI IBRAHIM. 143 

time Abd el Kader, seeing the fruitlessness of the efforts 
of this multitude, retired with his horsemen, to return no 
more. 

He took with hirn sixty prisoners who had received 
among them one hundred and twelve wounds. From the 
marabout, the soldiers could see the troop departing, and 
could distinguish, if not recognize, the companions whom 
it was bearing away. 

Abd el Kader gone, the Arabs desisted from all attack, 
scattered beyond gunshot, and formed around the mara- 
bout an immense circle. They awaited two auxiliaries 
which could not fail them— hunger and thirst. Kight 
came again. 

Captain Géreaux, who kept watch over all, then per- 
ceived an Arab approaching the marabout by crawling. 
AYith what intention did he come ? He was ignorant. 
The Captain awoke Monsieur Eosagutti, who called the 
Arab, and he came to them. 

Then each collected all the money that he had about his 
person, and handed it to the Arab, to pay him for carry- 
ing a letter to the camp of Xalla Maghrnia. This letter 
disclosed the terrible situaEon in which the troops were 
placed. 

The Arab took the letter and departed. A faithful mes- 
senger, he reached the French camp: but no one there 
knew the handwriting of Captain Géreaux. They were on 
their guard against the wiles of the Arabs; they deemed 
the note a ruse of Abd el Kader. 

Still, owing to the despatch of the letter, hope had re- 
turned to the besieged. They awaited, with eyes directed 
toward Lalla Maghrnia. They waited all the day, without 
bread, without water, almost without ammunition. The 
Kabyles attacked no more. Stationary at their posts, they, 
by some discharges, merely announced from time to time 


144 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


that they were watching. The ' night passed uniformly 
tranquil, but no one slept. Hunger and thirst, those two 
vultures of the desert, soared above the marabout of Sidi 
Ibrahim. 

The day of the 25th was but a long and sad expectation. 
The troops are exhausted, some are fainting ; but not a com- 
plaint, not a murmur marks this exhaustion, these faint- 
ings. They know that they are there to die, and they accept 
the pang, if not without regret, at least without despair. 

In the night they decide on retreat, but the Arabs, as if 
divining the intention, dispose their forces more skilfully 
than they have yet done, and establish a. strong post on the 
route to Djema r’ Azouat. 

The 26th, at six o’clock in the morning, all hope of 
relief being gone, Ca23tain Géreaux announces that he 
is about to force the enemy’s lines, and march toward 
Djema r’ Azouat. He has four leagues to traverse. Over 
these four leagues, thousands of Arabs are scattered, like 
the pieces of an immense chess-board. The men are ex- 
hausted, but what of that ! Inexorable necessity, — which 
with one hand draws along thirst, with the other, hunger, — 
necessity ! does it not drive them from their refuge ? 

By this course, they will go to meet, instead of awaiting 
death. Djema has some troops; perhaps there will be 
means of apprising Monsieur Cofiyn ; perhaps they will be 
aided in this last desperate effort. They will march toward 
Djema r’ Azouat. They silently load their guns. They 
prepare with the least movement possible. 

Suddenly, the fifty-five or sixty men remaining of the 
column, rise, and leap the four faces of the marabout’s 
walls. They rush* at the double-quick on the nearest post 
of Arabs, and carry it by storm. During this contest, 
not a shot has been fired by our soldiers, not a man has 
fallen. 


DEFENCE OF THE MAEABOUT OF SIDI IBEAHIM. 145 

But the Arabs, astonished at this impossible assault, 
close around our rallied soldiers. The alarm is given in 
every direetion. The Souhalias, whose villages show near 
the horizon, come to join the Kabyles. The musketry, 
which stupefaction has momentarily silenced, engages, 
rattles, breaks forth, and five riflemen are seriously 
wounded. But there is among all these French soldiers 
the fraternity of danger, the union formed in the clutch of 
death. Enfeebled though they are, they take the wounded 
on their shoulders, or sustain them under the arms. They 
wall abandon only the corpses. 

It was marvellous to see this handful of soldiers, easily 
distinguishable by their uniforms amid the swarm of Arabs 
who pursue them, whom they repulse, and who ceaselessly 
return to the attack. 

Two leagues have been thus accomplished. The troops 
have left more than one dead body on the way ; but in the 
very intoxication of danger, they have found strength to 
arrive, still fighting, decimated, at the extremity of the 
plateau which they pursue from Sidi Ibrahim. From this 
plateau they distinguish all the valley of the oued Ziri. 
This rivulet which flows at the bottom of the valley is that 
which empties into the sea at a short distance from Djema 
r’ Azouat. They do not yet see the city, but they are not 
further ofi* than half a league, and there the troops will 
doubtless hear the musketry, and hasten to their assistance. 
Thirty or thirty-six riflemen are still living. Five or six 
wounded ones are carried in the arms of their comrades. 
Captain Gereaux, out of breath, and streaming with pres- 
piration, can no longer march without difliculty. “ Come ! 
come !” shouts Corporal Lavaissière, “ our Captain is so fat 
that he can hardly follow us. Halt an instant, my friends, 
and let him have time to breathe.” 

At the very instant, they make a halt, and form in 
13 G 


146 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


square around Captain Gereaux and Lieutenant Chap- 
delaine. During the halt, which lasts ten minutes, three 
men fall — two dead, one expiring. They wish to carry off 
the dying man. 

It is useless,” exclaims he, “ I am gone. I have four 
cartridges left : here they are.” 

A dozen hands stretch forth. The four cartridges are 
divided among the most needy. Then' the soldiers rush 
down into the valley. . Half-way down the slope. Lieu- 
tenant Chapdelaine is mortally wounded. He stands for a 
moment, still waving his rifle and cries : “ Pay no attention 
to me. Go ! go !” 

But it is not easy to obey such an order. It is not easy, 
at a word, to leave to the mercy of the Arabs such a man as 
he who has just fallen. If they cannot carry him off alive, 
they wish at least to carry him off dead. A fresh combat 
is joined around his dead body, a new square is formed. 
And with all the more courage, because hope has returned. 
From the slope where they have just halted for a last 
effort, they see the block-house, and see advancing over the 
023posite mountain-crests a French troop of horse. 

The Arabs, also, have seen this advancing column, and 
have paused. But, by a strange fatality, unheard-of, in- 
conceivable, the troop countermarches. It has seen nothing, 
heard nothing ; and despite the signals, despite the cries of 
these unhappy abandoned men, it disappears. The conflict 
must be renewed. Captain Géreaux gives the order to 
retreat. 

The soldiers bid a hasty adieu to the dead body of Chap- 
delaine. One of them clips off a side of his mustache, a 
relic which, if he himself be saved, he will send to the 
mother or to some sweetheart. 

But during this desperate struggle, the Arabs have 
descended from the douar which crowns the mountain on 



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It is the last shot that comes from the square 

Page 147. 



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DEFENCE OF THE MAE ABOUT OF SIDI IBEAHIM. 147 

the right hand, and have cut off the retreat of the heroic 
fragment of a combat which has now lasted four days. 
On drawing near a hedge of fig-trees, the little force finds 
itself so hemmed in that it cannot advance a step. 

Captain Géreaux, for the third time, orders a square to 
be formed. At this command, the men halt and form the 
square. About twenty-five men men are still upon their 
feet. Here it is that each man uses his last cartridge. 
Then the men present bayonets, the last weapon which 
remains in their hands. Then the Arab bullets decimate 
the little force. Then the Arabs charge so close that one 
of them puts his hand on the epaulette of Captain 
Gereaux. The latter still has a loaded pistol, and the 
Arab falls, killed at the muzzle. It is the last shot that 
comes from the square. 

The Arabs fall back and shoot our men from a distance 
of twenty paces. At the first discharge Géreaux, with a 
dozen men, falls dead. Only twelve or fifteen men survive. 
Then a square is no longer possible. The sole remaining 
hope for the few men still alive is to break through the 
enemy’s line and escape. The survivors cast themselves 
headlong among the Arabs. 

The twelve or fifteen brave men disappear. Some fall 
dead; others cast themselves into the brush, which they 
penetrate by crawling ; others reach the lines of Djema r’ 
Azouat, where they are received in a dying condition by 
Doctor Artigues. Three expire of exhaustion, their bodies 
showing not the sign of a wound. 

But before dying they gave all the details of this terrible 
affair. They said, that perhaps five or six of their com- 
rades might yet be saved. All the able-bodied men at 
Djema r’ Azouat ask to be allowed to march. They sally 
out, repulse the Arabs, and do succeed in rescuing five or 
six men who had escaped the yataghan of the Kabyles. 


148 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Among these men was Corporal Lavaissiêre. Eight men 
survived. They were the glorious remnant of one of the 
battalions which the Duke of Orléans had formed, and, five 
years previously, manœuvred at Saint Omer. 

By the admission of the Arabs, their victory cost them 
more than nine hundred men. 


THE MASSACRE. 




I N the evening of the day of the first combat, after hav- 
ing three times summoned Captain Gereaux and his 
riflemen to surrender, Ahd el Kader returned to the tent 
which had been pitched for him. 

At the sides of this tent, three hundred heads were scat- 
tered on the ground. Ahd el Kader cast right and left, 
a calm, indifierent glance, wiped his cheek from which 
still trickled some drops of blood, and ordered the prisoners 
to be brought before him. 

At the head of these prisoners, the most considerable of 
all, was Major Courby de Cognord. He had received five 
wounds. An Arab was engaged in cutting his throat, 
when, by chance, the Caliph Bou Amedy passing, perceived 
that Monsieur de Cognord was an officer of rank, and that 
he was still living. The Caliph arrested the arm of the 
Arab. 

The wound remained gaping, horrible to the sight, but 
happily, not mortal. Monsieur de Cognord was raised up, 
supported, and conducted to the presence of Abd el Kader. 

He recollects, as one recollects of a dream, having seen 
the heads lying on the ground, having heard the voice of 
the Emir, and having essayed to reply. Around him, and 
behind him, were eighty prisoners. Among them sixty 
were wounded ; and among these, one hundred and twelve 
wounds were numbered. 

13 «■ 


149 


150 


TALES or ALGERIA. 


Abd el Kader ordered Major Courby de Cognord to be 
conducted to the tent of Adja Bit, one of his Chiefs. The 
Major passed the night with the Chief-Quartermaster, 
Barbut, who dressed his wounds. 

The other prisoners were compelled to sort the heads of ^ 
their dead comrades, and to coat them with honey, for the 
purpose of preserving them. Among these heads of sol- 
diers, Têtard — the same who had given up his horse to 
Monsieur de Cognord — recognized those of Colonel Mon- 
tagnac. Captain Gentil Saint Alphonse, and Lieutenant 
Klein. 

When the heads were coated with honey, the prisoners 
were made to divide them into twenties, and place them in 
piles, like cannon-balls in a park of artillery. Fifteen piles 
of heads were counted. They were to be sent to the prin- 
cipal Chiefs of Morocco. 

The next morning when the Arabs were about to depart, 
the heads were taken, and the ears pierced. The heads 
were then tied together with strings made from the palm- 
tree, and were put into panniers, with which mules were 
loaded. 

The prisoners were brought forth. Those in the best 
condition were obliged to walk, those most sick were placed 
on mules. The feet of the men mounted on the mules 
rested on the bottom of the panniers : they were up to their 
knees in heads. Only Monsieur Courby de Cognord had a 
mule without panniers, and, consequently, without heads. 

They marched, the first day, from seven o’clock in the 
morning until five o’clock in the evening. The prisoners 
who followed afoot were conducted very roughly. At five 
o’clock the troop halted, for the purpose of sleeping in a 
village of the Beni Snassen. All spent the night in the 
open air. The heads were emptied out of the panniers, 
and the prisoners lay down beside them. 


THE MASSACRE. 


151 


At six o’clock the next morning they departed, and 
directed their course toward the Moulaja. In following 
the road thither they passed to the right of the district of 
the Beni Snassen. 

In skirting a ravine, a mule fell. The heads which 
it carried rolled into the bushes, bounded over the rocks, 
and disappeared in the depths. There was a halt, and 
the prisoners were set to work searching for the heads. 
They were obliged to bring them back to the last one. 
Then the march was resumed. On this day, they marched 
until night. They halted half a league from the Moulaja, 
and bivouacked near some douars. 

The prisoners were suffering terribly from thirst. Some 
of them had not had water since the time when they were 
captured. They who were in a condition to walk, were 
conducted to the river, where they drank, and whence they 
fetched water for those who had not been able to accom- 
pany them. As on the preceding day, the mules were 
unloaded, and everybody slept in the open air. 

On the third day, they set out early in the morning. 
About half-past five o’clock they were on the bank of the 
river, which they skirted for some time. At last, about 
nine o’clock in the morning, they crossed it. At eleven 
o’clock they arrived at the deïra. The prisoners were at 
once conducted to the tent occupied by the mother and the 
wives of Abd el Kader. At this period the Emir had 
three wives. 

Then the prisoners were marched all over the deïra, and 
afterward were taken to a camp situated about three 
leagues from the place where they had crossed the stream 
that very morning. In the last day’s march their course 
was away from the sea. 

The heads remained at the deïra for three days. They 
formed around Abd el Kader’s tent a circle about which 


152 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


the Arabs came to dance the fantasia. The prisoners were 
put in the centre of the camp, in which place a poor tent 
was provided for the officers. The men who were the most 
seriously wounded were put into another tent. The rest 
lodged as they could. 

They remained in this place about a month. One night 
a fire broke out in camp. One of the prisoners, without 
intending it, had caused the conflagration, but as it was not 
known who the person was, he escaped punishment. Much 
personal property was burned or otherwise lost. 

■ Then they broke camp and pitched their tents about a 
league ofl*. The second camp also was on the Moulaja, 
but it was a league further in the interior. 

On the 9th of February, that is to say, after a stay of 
four months, an order came to strike fents at once. They 
obeyed. They crossed the Moulaja, and established them- 
selves on the opposite bank, reaching the mountains of 
the Leuf. 

At the time of their departure four men were sick. 
Monsieur Courby de Cognord requested mules for them. 
The mules were promised to him, but when the time for 
marching had arrived, they did not appear. The four sick 
men were beheaded. 

Some days afterward they left the mountains and ap- 
proached the banks of the stream. 

On the 15th of February the chasseur, Bernard, and a 
soldier of the train, Gagne, escaped. Gagne was killed on 
the way, but Bernard reached Djema r’ Azouat, safe and 
sound, and communicated the first precise intelligence 
which had yet been obtained in reference to the prisoners. 

On the 17th, three other prisoners disappeared. They 
were Corporal Moulin, a zouave named Poggi, and that 
Ismael who in the midst of the combat had cried, ‘‘We are 
lost.” All three were recaptured. 


THE MASSACRE. 


153 


Thé Caliph Bou Amedy — ^the same who had saved the 
life of Monsieur Courby de Cognord — condemned all three 
to death. Monsieur Courby de Cognord, by dint of entreaty, 
first obtained the pardon of Poggi and Ismael, and at the 
last moment, when the guns were already loaded, when the 
firing-platoon was about to shoot Corporal Moulin, he 
managed to obtain his pardon also. 

On the 24th of April arrived a messenger from the 
Caliph, Haggi Mustapha. This messenger came, in the 
name of his Chief, to invite Monsieur Courby to eat a 
couscousou* with him. Monsieur Courby de Cognord set 
out with the ofiicers and four soldiers, for the purpose of 
accepting this invitation. They who accompanied him 
were Lieutenant Marin, Lieutenant Larrazée, Lieutenant 
Hillerin, Doctor Cabasse, Adjutant Thomas, Chief-Quarter- 
master Barbut, the hussar Têtard, the chasseur. Trotté, and 
two others. 

Leaving camp about three o’clock in the afternoon, they 
walked until eight o’clock in the evening, when, as they 
had reached the district inhabited by the tribe of Hachem, 
they stopped to rest for the night. 

Early in the morning of the next day, the 25th, they set 
out, to continue their journey toward the deïra ; but scarcely 
had they gone a league when an order was received com- 
manding them to retrace they steps, and to return to Soli- 
man, Chief of the tribe of the Hachem, which they had 
left that very morning. 

Then suspicions began to arise in the minds of Monsieur 
de Cognord and his companions. They perceived that 
their separation from the other prisoners had been 
prompted, by sinister motives. Unfortunately, they could 
do nothing for their comrades. 


* An African dish of mixed animal and vegetable food. — Trans. 


154 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


They questioned the Arab guard, but they could obtain 
no answer. In fact, whilst they were going further and 
further from camp, this is what was transpiring in the place 
which they had left. At dark, the prisoners had been assem- 
bled and stood in a row. Then they had been ordered to 
produce all their effects. When they had reassembled, the 
regular foot-soldiers of Abd el Kader had come and 
separated them. Divided into parties of five or six men, 
each party had been compelled to enter a separate gourbi. 

In one of these parties was a man whose account is the ^ 
sole light that has been shed on the terrible scene which 
opens. This man is the trumpeter Koland. He, with six 
other prisoners, had been placed in the same gourbi. 

He was a resolute man. He had seen all these prepara- 
tions; he had understood them, but without being dis- 
mayed. Something will happen to night, said he to his 
companions ; “ do not sleep, but be on the alert to defend 
yourselves, if they do really intend to kill us.’^ 

“Defend ourselves! and with what?” exclaimed the 
other prisoners. 

“ Make a weapon of anything,” replied Eoland. 

Eoland had a French knife which he had found thrr 
days previously, and which be had kept concealed. • I T" 
sides, in entering the gourbi, he had found a sickle aga^ 1 
which he had accidentally struck his foot : he had gi; 
it to a man named Daumat. Exhibiting the knife t(y his 
companions, he said “ At the slightest noise, I shall rush 
out. I shall kill the first Arab in my path. Follow me.” 

It was about eight o’clock in the evening when these 
unhappy men, grasping each other’s hands, arranged in 
whispers their plan of desperate defence. One can readily 
imagine that no a man closed his eyes that night. To- 
ward midnightj tne soldiers of Abd el Kader gave a shout. 
It was the sig' al for the massacre. 


THE MASSACRE. 


155 


Roland sees that the time has come. He rushes out first, 
darts forward, meets an Arab on his way, and plants the 
knife to the hilt in his breast, jumps over the body, leaps 
the hedge which surrounds the camp, lays hold of a branch, 
and swings himself over to the other side. At this moment 
two regulars seize him by the waistband of his trousers ; 
but his trousers in rags remain in their hands. Roland 
escapes in his shirt. 

About a hundred metres from camp, an ambuscade fires 
on him. A ball grazes his leg. He continues to fly, and 
reaches a hill situated about an eighth of a league from 
camp. There he stops, and seats himself, in order to see 
whether any one of his comrades is coming to join him. 

Is it not marvellous ? This man who has just escaped 
miraculously from death, whom death still loudly claims ! 
stops, and seats himself, to see whether some comrade is not 
coming to join him ! 

At two gunshots ofi*, under his eyes, the massacre was 
going on. He heard the cries of the victims and the 
shouts of the assassins. By the flash of the musketry, he 
««aw the struggle. 

The struggle lasted over half an hour. Eighty French- 
cannot be thus slaughtered without resisting. At 
^th the firing ceased, the cries subsided. All was over, 
n Roland arose, cast a last look upon the camp, and 
pbxceiving no fugitive in the obscurity, resumed his way, 
crossed the Moulaja, and walked straight forward. 

By day, he concealed himself ; by night, he set out again. 
Some prickly pears were all his sustenance during three 
days. 

In the evening of the third day a terrible storm gathered 
in the sky. Thunder muttered, rain fell."' The wind blew 
so heavily as to tear the branches from the brushwood. 

Roland continued to walk. He was aim "?t naked ; he 


156 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


was sore, emaciated, dying. He estimated tliat lie miglit 
still live two or three hours. He resolved to make an end 
of it, and directed his steps toward a Moroccan village 
which he perceived on the horizon. He reached it at 
nightfall. 

At the entrance to the village he met women going to 
draw water from a spring. On perceiving him they took 
to flight, uttering screams. But Boland pursued his WJ^y, 
and entered the village behind them. At the end of a little 
street, he found himself face to face with a young man 
about twenty years of age, who, on seeing him, drew a 
poniard and rushed at him. Boland wished to die: he 
bared his bosom and awaited the stroke. 

For an instant this action disconcerted the Arab, but he 
was again raising his arm, when another Arab leaped from 
the top of a neighboring terrace, and stopped him. The 
new-comer was doubtless a man of a certain authority, for, 
with a gesture, he put aside the murderer, and made a sign 
to Boland to follow him. Boland could do nothing better 
than obey, so he followed his protector, who conducted him 
to his house, let him warm himself for two or three min- 
utes, and afterward bade him lie down, bound his feet and 
hands, and threw over him a horse-blanket. 

Boland had not only lost all strength, but even all will. 
The only desire that he possessed and manifested, was that 
a speedy death should deliver him from all the torture which 
he believed that he still had to undergo. The signs which 
he made to this effect, the Arab understood, and answered 
that, on the contrary, he would not kill him, and that he 
bade him fear nothing. In fact, the next morning at day- 
light, the Arab approached Boland and untied the cords 
which bound him. 

Boland passed seven days in the Arab’s house. The 
Arab did not allow him to go out, but that course was 


THE MASSACRE. 


157 


prompted by good intentions. Some men of the village 
were on the watch to kill Roland. 

On the seventh day after Roland’s arrival, a man en- 
tered the gourbi of" the Arab, exchanged a few words 
with him, and at the end of the conversation, gave him two 
douros. Roland w’as sold, in consideration of the sum of 
ten francs. They waited for night ; for as long as it was 
day, neither the seller nor the purchaser would have dared 
to take Roland through the village. But when night came, 
the purchaser led away his slave, and conducted him to his 
house. There he gave him a haik and a burnoose. 

He kept him in the house for eight days. On the tenth 
day he conducted him to the house of one of his relations, 
wdio lived in a village, one day’s walk from Lalla Maghrnia. 
The journey w^as made through the mountains of Nedroma. 

From the village Roland was delivered to the French. 
The promise of a reward, which Roland had made to his 
master, had induced him to conceive this project, which 
Roland could not credit until he found himself in the arms 
of his comrades. 

During this time the liberty of the officers who survived 
was still further restricted. The orders regarding them be- 
came daily more and more stringent. They could not stir 
without being followed. At last. Monsieur de Cognord 
obtained permission to Avrite to his family, and to General 
Cavaignac. General Cavaignac received his letter, and 
answered him. By this answer. Monsieur de Cognord 
learned that he had been made lieutenant-colonel, and an 
officer of the Legion of Honor. This neAVS reached him 
toAA^ard the end of January. 

At length, after eighteen months’ captivity, a koggia — a 
grade Avhich corresponds Avith our fourier* — had a con- 

* As no French Dictionary gives the Avord fourier , — except the 
name of the celebrated Socialist, — and as several Frenchmen, on being 


14 


158 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


ference with Lieutenant-Colonel Courby de Cognord and 
Monsieur Marin. He was instructed to ask them whether 
they were willing to purchase their liberty for the sum of 
twelve thousand douros, or in our coinage, seventy-two 
thousand francs. To this proposition the Colonel replied 
that, treating on his own account, and in his own name, the 
sum was entirely too large. 

The koggia retired, bidding Colonel Courby de Cognord 
reflect well on the matter, inasmuch as, he observed, high 
in rank though the Colonel was, he might easily have 
happen to him what had happened to others. The affair 
was protracted for three weeks. The Arabs hoped all the 
time that Monsieur de Cognord would yield, but he con- 
tinued to reply that, redeeming himself and his companions 
with his own funds, and not with those of his Government, 
he could not treat save for a sum corresponding with his 
means. 

Then the Arabs lowered the amount of the ransom to 
fifty thousand francs, then to forty thousand, and at last to 
thirty-six thousand. The ransom at this sum was ac- 
cepted by the Colonel, and thereupon was made the 
arrangement which was communicated to Don Demetrio 
Maria de Benito, Governor of Mellila, which arrangement 
led to the deliverance of the prisoners — a deliverance at 
which by an extraordinary concatenation of circumstances 
we happened to be present. 

Thus, at last ended the cycle of these men’s captivity. 
Leaving Djema r’ Azouat, they had left Captain Gé- 
rcaux still alive on the battle-field of Sidi Ibrahim, and, 
after an absence of fourteen months, they returned to the 


appealed to, have been obliged to confess their ignorance of the exist- 
ence of the word, it may be considered excusable that the translation 
should not throw any light on the meaning of koggia. — Trans. 


THE MASSACRE. 


159 


tomb of their comrade, to learn the circumstances of his 
death, and to relate their captivity. Thus, after fourteen 
months had rolled by, after this heroic defence and this 
distressing captivity had occupied every generous mind, we, 
with the remains of this immortal column, came to conduct 
the living to the tomb of the dead. 

This tomb, or more properly, this charnel-house which 
holds the* remains of Gereaux and his comrades, has 
been raised to them by the pious regard of the garrison 
of Djema r’ Azouat. The tomb is simple, but of handsome 
form ; such as is appropriate for a military mausoleum. 
Unfortunately, some savant sent by the Institute, some 
architect travelling for the Government, will one of these 
days land, as we did, at Djema r’ Azouat, will- follow the path 
which 'we followed through that gloomy reddish valley 
streaked with black verdure, and suddenly, on issuing from 
the sacred woods, will find himself in front of this tomb. 
Then will come to him the idea of associating his useless 
name and insignificant reputation with this great achieve- 
ittent of modern warfare. Then he will present a Grecian 
or a Roman design. The design will be examined and re- 
ceived, and from our desecrating Europe will come the 
order to substitute the cold work of the chisel for the glow- 
ing tribute of the heart. These holy stones, each of which 
was placed by a brother’s hand, will be scattered ; this 
tomb, on wEich is leaning the old torn flag, will be 
demolished ; and a sort of temple, with Corinthian columns, 
with sharp pediment, — a pale reflex of a monument erected 
three thousand years ago, — will rise — classical sacrilege ! — 
in the place where now rises this tomb breathing a living 
memory. 

It is very fortunate that Cairo is not Paris. The Pyra- 
mids would long ago have disappeared for the benefit of the 
Madeleine and the Bourse. 


160 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


We took our way toward Djema r’ Azouat. I remember 
iiotliiiig more touching and devotional than this return. 
Each one mentioned the name of a lost friend. At every 
step an officer paused, and said to his companion. “Hold, it 
was here that such a one fell.” “Yes,” the other would 
sadly-smiling reply, “ poor fellow ! he was the bravest and 
the best of us all.” Among noble martyrs, it is always, 
in their eyes, the best, the noblest that falls. • 

Remember that there are in Africa ten thousand officers 
belonging to our noblest, richest, and most talented families, 
whose whole ambition is comprised in these two sentences. 
“ It is here that he fell ! It is here that we shall fall !” 
And what courage, what strength, is not needed by these 
voluntary exiles, in order to brave surprises, fever, battle, 
the heat of summer, the cold of winter, constant absence 
from their native land ! 

With deep respect, did I clasp the hands of these men, 
and walk with them arm in arm. It was with astonish- 
ment that I saw them smile. My God ! said I to myself, 
— ^vffien the hum of our Europe reaches them, when tl^e 
scandalous debates in our Chambers are brought to them 
by the newspapers, when the shameful traffic of our con- 
sciences is revealed to them by aristocratic lawsuits, — My 
God! what must these men of pure and generous soul 
think, who suffer, yffio fight, who die for this corrupt and 
venal mother ; who speculates by millions in her railroads, 
in her Spanish loans, in her English funds, and discusses, 
sou by sou, the few thousand francs which are needed for 
the purpose of giving better bread to the soldier, a hospital 
to the sick, a chaplain to the dying ! My God, my God ! 
permit them not to curse their country, for the curse would 
be fatal ! 

They must have cursed their country, for since I wrote 
those lines, worse than I feared has befallen them. 


THE BANQUET. 


^UR return to camp — for the city does not yet merit the 
^ name of city — diverted my mind from these ideas. 

Two or three hundred persons had come to meet us, and 
waited for us five hundred paces from the fortifications. 

During our absence, the preparations for dinner had ad- 
vanced with gigantic strides. A great dining-room had 
been improvised in a barn. Tricolored tapestry — where 
could they have found it ? — adorned the interior ; designs 
in verdure festooned and decked its whole length. These 
designs were formed of laurel, which everywhere grows 
spontaneously on the fertile soil of Africa. 

I know no people more ingenious than soldiers are in 
matters of ornamentation. Give sabres, bayonets, pistols, 
and guns, to the architect or to the decorator, he will make 
nothing of them but sabres, bayonets, pistols, guns. The 
soldier will make of them lustres, mirrors, stars. He will 
diaper the walls, and constellate the ceiling. He will make 
of them pilasters, columns, caryatides, and all resplendent 
with light. 

When we entered this shed, — a barn in the morning, a 
banquet-hall at night ; — when we saw a table with three 
hundred covers set out on this sandy and desert shore, we 
turned to discover the Genius who had produced this 
prodigy, or the Fairy who had effected this transformation. 
The most powerful of Fairies is Necessity — ^the rough god- 
mother of the soldier. 

14 ^ 


161 


162 


TALES or ALGEKIA. 


Six o’clock struck. All the prisoners were assembled, 
save one. Alas ! one among all these men was not ad- 
mitted to this fraternal banquet. He had surrendered, 
said they: that was his crime. In. Africa a man does not 
surrender. He is either victorious, or killed, or captured. 
Now this man had surrendered, this man, reserved for trial 
by a court-martial, could not partake of the festivity. 

It was thought that he would blow his brains out at the 
first toast, which the cannon would bear to him in the 
abandoned hut where he had been left alone like a leper. 
The means, so they said, had been provided by his com- 
rades. A pair of loaded pistols had been left within his 
reach. It was thought — more, it w'as hoped, that he would 
not await the impending sentence. Amid the universal 
joy, there existed, therefore, a shade of sadness. These 
men, so stern in points of honor, felt that a stain had sul- 
lied their own honor. What would these men have said 
of the capitulation of Baylen, and the surrender of 
Paris ? 

The guests took their seats at table. The honors were 
reserved for the prisoners, and for us. Colonel Courby de 
Cognord was placed on the right of Colonel McMahon, 
I was placed on his left. In front of us were Captain Bé- 
rard and Colonel Trembley, then came Maquet, Boulanger, 
Giraud, Desbarolles, and Alexandre, each of them having 
a prisoner right and left. At the lower end of the table, 
with an interpreter, sat the envoys of Abd el Kader, 
dressed in their white burnooses bound around the forehead 
with a camel-halter. The band of the regiment, concealed 
behind the drapery, played martial airs. 

A man may be present at such a fête once perhaps in a 
life-time, by chance, by good-fortune, should I say ; but he 
cannot describe it. What makes it sublime is the emo- 
tion of the moment. Who dares flatter himself that he 


THE BANQUET. 


163 


can arouse this emotion in the hearts of strangers, when 
time has rolled by, wdien even they who felt it find it no 
longer in their hearts, save in the form of memory ! But I 
very sincerely thank God, — ^who in my artist-life bestows on 
me much more than I should have dared to ask of him 
w^hen I ventured to step forward in the career of hope, — 
but, I say, I very sincerely thank God for having vouch- 
safed that I, the son of an old soldier, that I, a soldier at 
heart, should have been present with my friends at such 
a festival. Ah, none among them, at this moment, regretted 
Tetuan with its bazaars, its minarets, and its mosques, for, 
a day passed at Tetuan, we should have arrived too late at 
Djema r’ Azouat ! 

With the champagne came toasts to the King, to the 
Princes, to the prisoners so miraculously saved, to the dead 
so gloriously fallen. And at each toast roared a salvo of 
artillery, to which from the mountain the astonished cries 
of hyenas and jackals responded. 

Then, between the toasts came narratives — marvellous 
recitals which seemed like extracts from Herodotus, or 
Xenophon— recitals of which the heroes were there, laugh- 
ing, singing, raising their glasses toward the ceiling. One, 
out hunting with his double-barrelled fowling-piece had 
defended himself alone against six Arabs. He had killed 
three, and taken one prisoner. Another, with ten men, 
had come unawares upon a douar containing twelve hun- 
dred Arabs, and had brought back to camp nine out of his 
ten men. It seemed to me that I was present at one of 
Cooper’s fine romances put in action. And some of the 
men who had accomplished these wonderful things had not 
even the cross, that distinction which is all the more ditfi- 
cult to obtain the more it is merited. 

To the toasts succeeded songs, and, sooth to say, the songs 
were succeeded by dances. The envoys of Abd el Kader 


164 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


looked on with tlieir great velvety eyes. They must have 
thought us mad. 

We rose from table. The hour had come to take leave 
of these new acquaintances, of wdiom some were already 
old friends. But people cannot thus part on that African 
shore, five hundred leagues from their mother-country. 
Horses were in waiting for us in the square, for the purpose 
of enabling us to ride to the shore, whither Colonel McMahon, 
Trembley, Picault, Leorat, and almost all of the ofiicers 
chose to accompany us. A last adieu was exchanged with 
the guests at large, and leaving the singers to their songs, 
the dancers to their joy, we mounted on horseback and 
departed — but slowly. It was with regret, as any one can 
well understand, that we were leaving this shore, where our 
footprints would be for ever effaced by the first gust of 
wind sweeping over the sand. 

The conversation was animated, boisterous. We talked 
about France and Africa, intermingled recollections of the 
two countries ; linked in loving bonds, Austerlitz and Isly, 
Marengo and the Pyramids. Suddenly every one became 
silent. They showed us the solitary hut. “ It is there that 
he is,” said they. This man whom they named not, before 
whose hut they interrupted tales of honor and glory, was 
he who had surrendered. The Spartans were not more 
cruel to the fugitive of Thermopylae. 

After a half hour’s ride, we reached the sea-shore. There 
the farewells were renewed, the shaking of hands became 
warmer, the embraces closer. There was emotion in the 
firmest voice, there w^ere tears in the dryest eye. 

Our boat was w^aiting for us, and w^e got into it. But 
we, so to speak, separated without parting. The night w^as 
beautiful, the moon magnificent. All our enthusiastic escort 
remained on the sea-shore, shouting farew^ell, and following 
wdth their eyes the phosphorescent w'ake traced in the 


THE BANQUET. 


165 


water by our little bark. And we to these shouts answered 
by shots fired in the air. 

At last we reached the Véloce. She had steam up, all 
ready to depart ; and she weighed anchor as soon as we 
were on board. We cast a* last farewell toward the shore, 
and the peopled shore replied. For some time still, bursts 
of joy and strains of martial music reached our ears, then, 
little by little, the sounds were lost in the distance, then 
nothing remained in sight but the fires of Djema F Azouat, 
with their refiections projecting over the glassy mottled 
surface of the water, then little by little, the fires in their 
turn disappeared. We had just doubled the eastern Cape 
of the Bay. 


BIZERTA. 


I T liad been decided that we would not stop at Oran, but 
that, under sail and steam, we would bear to Algiers the 
joyful tidings of the release of the prisoners. 

During the whole day of the 28th, and the morning of 
the 29th, we coasted along. 

Maquet had nearly broken his head by striking it against 
a beam, and he remained in his berth. Giraud, sick from 
very fear of sickness, rarely trusted himself on deck. Our 
party was therefore reduced to Alexandre, Desba’rolles, and 
Boulanger. 

On the 29th,- at nine o’clock in the morning, the cry of 
Algiers ! Algiers ! brought Maquet from his berth, and 
Giraud from his cabin. Neither Sidi Ferruch nor Torre 
Chica had induced them to stir. 

The view of Algiers is superb. The city begins at the 
sea-shore, and mounts the eastern slope of the mountain, 
which is crowned by the Fort de l’Empereur, situated a 
little to the left. 

We doubled the jetty, a Titanic work executed by the 
hand of man with blocks of concrete. It is this jetty 
which, for the last ten years, has been every year attacked 
and defended in the Chambers. 

French buildings sadly mar the Oriental aspect of Al- 
giers. At first sight, it looks like a European city. The 
glance must overlook the foreground, all bristling with 
four-story houses lighted with windows like lantern-slits, 
166 


BIZERTA. 


167 


and sweep up the mountain-side to the middle and back- 
ground, in order to discover the ancient city of the Deys, 
the African city. Yet, even amidst these white-walled 
houses, pierced with few and narrow openings, one some- 
times sees rising a long rectangular building that reminds 
one of the picturesque architecture of the Rue des Lom- 
bards, or the Faubourg Saint Denis. 

Some lovely palms, motionless, their green plumes vividly 
relieved against the white houses, or on the blue of the sky, 
protested eloquently, in the name of tropical vegetation, 
against the invasion of the French. On the right was the 
sea stretching away to Montpelier, sweeping by the island 
of Majorca. On the left hand was the plain of Metidja, 
extending from Rassauta to Ben Afroun. Behind us was 
Cape Matifou ; beyond Cape Matifou were the Atlas Moun- 
tains. 

Scarcely had we cast anchor, when a boat, leaving the 
port, rowed toward us. The result of the negotiation at 
Mellila was as yet unknown at Algiers. We w^ere the first 
to arrive, and our diligence was rewarded. It was evident 
that we were regarded as the bearers of good tidings. In 
fact, the excitement in Algiers was intense, especially 
among the troops. As for the bourgeois, the trades-people, 
the speculators, they are, on the other side of the Mediter- 
ranean, just what they are everywhere else. Some of them 
asked us what prisoners we -were talking about. 

A disappointment was in store for us. Marshal Bu- 
geaud was not at Algiers. Some days before our arrival, 
he had started for Oran, going by land with two or three 
Deputies, who had availed themselves of their parliament- 
ary recess to visit Algiers. In his absence. General de 
Bar was in command of the city. 

Our determination was quickly taken. Marshal Bu- 
geaud was to be absent about fifteen days. As it Tvas he to 


168 


TALES OF, ALGERIA. 


whom \ve had letters, I resolved to employ the fifteen days 
in going to Tunis, returning by the way of Bona, Philippe- 
ville, and Constantina. Therefore, armed with the letter 
which placed the Véloce at my disposal, I presented myself 
to General de Bar, who referred me to Kear-Admiral de 
Bigodie. 

I trust that Madame de Bigodie will permit me to men- 
tion, incidentally, an hour delightfully passed in her society, 
whilst Captain Bérard received new instruction regarding 
our party. 

As I desired, the Véloce was placed entirely at my dis- 
posal, with the understanding that we would use our best 
endeavors to return to Algiers about the 20th or 24th of 
December. 

The authorities added to our party — and the favor was 
appreciated — an old friend of mine, known in France by 
his charming poetry, and, in Algeria, by his more serious 
labois — Monsieur Ausone de Chancel. 

It was this little transaction, placing the Véloce at my 
disposal for three weeks, which the Minister of Marine 
termed a misunderstanding, in that famous session of the 
Chamber, when I was spoken of as that person. Alas ! 
one of these men so ready to insult is dead. • I have for- 
gotten the names of the two others. So it is in France. 
All reward irritates us, all honor wounds, when we are not, 
let it be distinctly understood, the objects of that reward or 
that honor. This vessel placed at my disposal .has made 
me more enemies than have “Antony’’ and “Monte Cristo,” 
and that is not saying a little. 

I think that it was in 1823 or 1824, that Sir Walter 
Scott, then in ill-health, manifested the desire to travel in 
Italy. The English Admiralty put at the disposal of the 
author of Ivanhoe its finest frigate. England applauded, 
and both Houses of Parliament applauded. Even to the 


BIZERTA. 


1G9 


journalists, every one clapped his hands in unison with 
Parliament. And it was well done, for perhaps, for the 
first time, the flag of the Three Leopards was saluted in all 
the ports of the Mediterranean with the enthusiastic accla- 
mations of the people. Were these acclamations for the 
flag, or were they for the man of genius whom it protected? 
Were they for the captain of the frigate, whose name I never 
knew, or for Sir Walter Scott? True, it may be said, l am 
not Sir Walter Scott; but to this I answer, that in France 
the misfortune of the living is not to know what they are 
so long as they do live. 

Well, whether from favor or from justice, the vessel was 
delivered to me, and the Government consented to load its 
budget with the sum of sixteen thousand francs’ worth of 
coal. It is well for people to know that this voyage, about 
wLich there has been so much outcry, cost the Government 
.sixteen thousand francs — just the half of what it cost me. 

This first visit to Algiers, being but a halt, I reserve for 
a more appropriate place, my description of what I saw on 
my return. 

I confess that it was with great pleasure that I found my- 
self once more on the deck of the Veloce. We were about 
to visit Tunis, the city of Saint Louis. We were about to 
visit Carthage, the city of Dido and of Hannibal. About 
certain names there is fascination, toward certain cities one 
is drawn as by a loadstone. One feels as if they were 
fabulous cities, which one can never see; the poet’s fancies, 
vanished with the thought which gave them birth. 

On board I fortunately had Virgil, Plutarch, and Join- 
ville. Oh, how I missed those charming nereïds who pro- 
pelled the vessel of Æneas! how I missed those bags of wind 
given by Æolus to Ulysses ! We coasted along for three 
days. The third day, about eleven o’clock, our eyes were 
greeted with the view of a charming little city, this time 
15 H 


170 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


truly Oriental, situated on the sea-shore, at the end of a 
gulf, blue as the waters of Cyrenaïca. We asked Vial the 
name of the town, and he replied, “ Bizerta/^ 

This word Bizerta produced a magical effect. Maquet 
thrust his head out of his cabin. “ What,’^ said he, “ do 
you say to going ashore at Bizerta?” 

“ Yes,” added Giraud, going through the same ma- 
noeuvre ; “ yes, what do you say to going ashore?” 

‘‘Captain,” I inquired, “do you perceive any objection 
to carrying out these gentlemen^s wish, which is also my 
own ?” 

“ None whatever,” replied the Captain. 

Vial immediately headed the ship for Bizerta. An hour 
afterward, we cast anchor in the port. There are two 
things that make a man more capricious than the most 
capricious woman — one is to travel post, the other, to have 
a vessel at his own disposal. 

The Captain ordered the yawl to be lowered, and, as 
usual, accompanied us in our new excursion. We landed 
in front of the French Consulate. To reach there, we had 
followed the course of a river, or rather gut, which beyond 
the bridge joining the two parts of the city, becomes a 
magnificent lake. The terrace at the Consulate commands 
a view of the lake and the city. 

Nothing can be more enchanting than the shores of 
this lake, with its great fowl with wings of flame, and its 
marabouts half concealed amidst the palms ; nothing more 
picturesque than the city’s quay, with its ruminating 
camels, and its grave people that look like so many 
phantoms. 

The water on which the boat ^floated was so pure, that, at 
the depth of ten feet, we could perceive fish* darting over the 
bed of pebbles and the algæ. One of them seeming to rise 
toward the surface of the water, I sent at it a ball, which 


BIZERTA. 


171 


was a ball thrown away. But at the report of the gun, 
flocks of ducks darkened the air, forming a background to 
a white line dotted with red, composed of a dozen or two 
of flamingoes. The ducks and the flamingoes circled for an 
instant above the surface of the lake, but, faithful to their 
loves, soon alighted. This sight aroused in us all our 
sportsman-instinct. We requested the Consul to give us a 
guide, who was immediately provided. We were to make, 
while shooting, the tour of the city, and return to the shore 
of the lake, where a boat should await us. 

Then, as usual, the party divided. Chancel, Alexandre, 
Maquet, and I took our guns. Giraud, Desbarolles, and 
Boulanger took their pencils. The city held out to the 
latter the inducement of plenty of sketches, and the country 
proclaimed to our party its abundance of game. 

We left the city by a gate passing through a high wall, 
with the construction of which it was evident that Vauban 
and Cohorn had had nothing to do. Bizerta is fortified in 
the nineteenth century as Ptolémaïs was in the twelfth. 

We struck to the left, and ascended a mountain, through 
a Turkish cemetery. White turbans, placed at the heads 
of some graves, indicated those which contained men. In 
proportion as we ascended, the sea unrolled before us, calm, 
motionless, deserted. The Véloce was the only dark spot 
on its mirror of azure. 

Scarcely had we gone a hundred paces, when we flushed 
two coveys of partridges. Chancel fired and killed a 
bird. It belonged to a species which resembles our red 
partridge. 

The country seemed well-cultivated, fertile, and studded 
with olive-trees, over which peered some few palms. One 
might fancy that these wild inhabitants of the desert re- 
treat before the progress of civilization, and keep their 
shade for the oases of Sahara. 


172 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Some rusty old cannon, protruding their muzzles through 
the embrasures, viewed us from the height of the city’s 
walls. 

The country was desolate.* One might have said that it 
cultivated itself, had not one occasionally, towmrd the east 
or toward the west, toward Utica or toward Hippo, caught 
a glimpse of a galloping horseman, or camel-driver afoot, 
disappearing in a distant road. 

We hunted for about two hours. In this time we saw 
fifty partridges, killed five or six of them, and made the 
tour of the city. The honors, not of the hunting, but of 
marksmanship, belonged to Alexandre. To our guide’s 
utter astonishment, he killed a lark with a single ball. We 
returned by the gate opposite to that by which we had left 
the city. A boat was in readiness for us, two sailors from 
the Véloce manned her, and we rowed toward the middle 
of the lake. 

On the quay we had left Maquet and Alexandre, who 
had undertaken to visit the city while Chancel and I con- 
tinued our sport. 

Almost everywhere, one can see the bottom of the lake. 
Its greatest depth is scarcely eight or ten feet. In some 
places, the water is so shallow that .three or four times we 
ran aground. I never saw game so plentiful, and, except- 
ing the flamingoes, game so little wild. In a second, we 
killed three or four ducks, two coots, and I know not how 
many snipe. The ' boat, striking against a stake w’hich I 
did not perceive, sent me pitching overboard. Fortunately 
the water was as warm as in our summer, although we 
w^ere in the month of December. Our friends, who were 
looking at us from the top of the terrace, could not imagine 
what had possessed me to leap into the lake with all my 
clothes on. The accident put an end to our sport, and we 


BIZERTA. 


173 


returned to the Consulate. I, with the rest, ascended the 
terrace, where I did my best to get dry. 

Giraud, Desbarolles, and Boulanger rejoined us. They 
had made plenty of sketches, and had left Maquet and 
Alexandre responding to the advances of an officer of the 
country, with whom they were about to take coffee and 
talk Sabir. Giraud brought with him a sketch of the 
notary of the place and his principal clerk. 

The Consul would have been very glad to keep us as his 
guests. At Bizerta there is but little diversion. He did 
not appreciate the sport of shooting, to which we had aban- 
doned ourselves with so much pleasure. At nightfall, we 
parted. In passing the quay, the boat took in Maquet and 
Alexandre, who, having made friends with the people, had 
had great difficulty in escaping from their hospitality. 

As we Ti^ere returning to the Véloce, we set this day 
down in our list of lucky days. In fact, Bizerta, with its • 
quiet streets, chiefly arched, its quays lined with cafés, its 
camels lying down at the doors, and its people pressing 
around us, left a charming impression. 

We reached the Véloce about six o’clock in the evening. 
At two o’clock the next morning, and by a lovely moon- 
light, we cast anchor near Tunis. 


FRENCH JUSTICE AND TURKISH JUSTICE. 


T he next day we Tvere awakened by tbe cannon of the 
Véloce, which, in the name of the King of France, 
and subsidiarily, in mine, fired a salute of twenty-one guns 
in honor of the city of Tunis. I say in honor of the city 
of Tunis, because at the moment when we were entering 
Tunis, the Bey was entering Paris. Tunis, like the polite 
city that it is, returned the salute ; perhaps with less prompt- 
ness and precision than ours, which was not its fault, but 
that of its artillerists. 

, We were in the very middle of the gulf. An eighth of 
a league off, a beautiful frigate rocked on the waters of the 
roadstead. It was the Montezuma, commanded by Captain 
Cuneo d’Ornano. 

The view of the port was splendid. Although it was the 
5th of December, the weather was magnificent. We were 
anchored just abreast of Goulette. Opposite to us ex- 
tended a long and narrow jetty, on which was strung a 
caravan of mules and camels. Beyond the jetty, the lake 
extended, and, at the end of the lake, Tunis the White, as 
the Turks themselves call it, rose like an amphitheatre, so 
that the most distant houses were defined on the azure sky. 

On the left, rose the Arsenal Fort, and the two peaks of 
Bou Kournein. On the right, the Chapel of St. Louis 
glistened, and the Cape of Carthage projected. Behind us, 
on the other side of the roadstead, the Lead Mountains 
174 


FRENCH JUSTICE AND TURKISH JUSTICE. 175 


rose — dark, bronze-like masses, on which not the slightest 
trace of vegetation could be perceived. 

Our cannonade had communicated the news of our 
arrival, not to the city, — that was too distant for us to know 
what was passing there, — but to Goulette, a sort of out- 
work, or picket, that recognized vessels in the name of 
Tunis. A boat left the jetty, and rowed toward us. It was 
commanded by our Consul, Monsieur Gaspari. 

Monsieur Gaspari is a charming man. Cast for twenty 
years on the other side of the Meditereannean, he is the 
providence of Europeans who go to Tunis either on busi- 
ness or for pleasure. As for himself, he has become an 
antiquary. He lives amidst the memories of ancient times 
and those of the Middle Ages, between Dido and St. Louis, 
Appian and Joinville. 

Whatever might be our haste to enter Tunis, there were 
some formalities to fulfil. In the first place. Captain 
Bérard owed a visit to Captain d’Ornano, who was his 
senior ofiicer. The Veloce, — although of pretty good size, 
when she ploughed her solitary w^ay through the great 
sheet of azure called the Mediterranean, — was a mere 
pigmy compared with the Montezuma. 

We decided, therefore, that we would begin by breakfast- 
ing aboard the Véloce ; that afterward, two boats should 
leave the ship, one taking Captain Bérard on board of the 
Montezuma, the other taking us to Goulette. There we 
were to await the Captain, visiting, meanwhile, the anti- 
quities of Monsieur Gaspari, and trying to shoot some 
flamingoes. I had longed to shoot some of those beautifi.il 
red-winged birds ever since, for the first time, I saw them 
on the previous evening on the lake at Bizerta. They 
announced Egypt. 

We hurried through breakfast, as fast as we could. But 
everything aboard a man-of-wai; is regulated, and if we 


176 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


succeeded in gaining five minutes, it was as much as we 
could have gained. At eleven o’clock, we set foot in the 
boat which took us to Goulette. A quarter of an hour 
afterward. Monsieur Gaspari made us taste his^hampagne, 
his maraschino from Zara, and his rosolio from Florence. 

The aspect of Goulette quite surprised us. It is impos- 
sible to form an idea of the appearance presented by the 
Asiatico-European population which throngs the quays of 
this advance-city. What most attracted our attention was 
the Tunisian militia. 

The- Bey, as every one knows, is a progressive man, so he 
wished to be guarded by an army modelled on the French. 
To procure this army, only two things were needful — men 
and uniforms. He had the men, the only question remain- 
ing was how to get uniforms. He imported from France 
tw^enty thousand pairs of madder-colored trousers, and 
twenty thousand blue jackets ; all based upon the mean of 
five feet four inches, the ordinary height of man.* 

Unfortunately, nothing is more capricious than size in 
tropical climes. Of the twenty thousand soldiers whom it 
was purposed to uniform on the French model, there were 
about eight thousand whose height reached five feet six or 
eight inches ; eight thousand whose height w’as not above 
five feet two or three inches ; and finally, four thousand — and 
these were they wdio composed the famous mean counted on 
— ^who varied between five feet two inches and five feet six 
inches. Consequently, eight thousand men had jackets and 
trousers too short ; eight thousand had jackets and trousers 
too long ; and lastly, only four thousand had jackets and 
trousers of a tolerable fit. 

We would have divided these twenty thousand men into 
three army corps — one with jackets and trousers too short, 


* The French foot is longer than the English foot. — Trans. 


FRENCH JUSTICE AND TURKISH JUSTICE. 177 

one with jackets and trousers too long, and one with jackets 
and trousers just right. In that way, at least, the things would 
have resembled a uniform. But, in Tunis, people are not so 
critical. Tl^ consequence is that the European army of His 
Highness the Bey of Tunis presents the strangest appearance. 

Now, add to the difference of stature, difference of com- 
plexion and race. Add to these, red caps with silken 
acorns, gray burnooses which remind one of the blouses 
of the invalids of the Hôtel Dieu, and finally, add an in- 
strument resembling a corkscrew, hanging from the belt 
half-way down the thigh, — an instrument whose purpose I 
have never been able to divine, — and you will have an idea 
of this famous militia; 

Next to this militia, the thing which struck me most was 
the number of people whom I saw hurrying about on the 
quay, with cotton-caps jauntily stuck on top of their heads. 
Surely it was hardly worth while to have traversed Spain 
from Bayonne to Cadiz, to have visited the coast of Africa 
from Tangier to Bizerta, to find one’s self, five hundred 
leagues from France, in the midst of so many cotton-caps. 
So you can very well, understand that I made inquiries. 
This is the story. 

About twenty years ago, during the reign of another 
Bey, a storm drove into the roadstead of Tunis, a captain 
from Marseilles, whose vessel was carrying a cargo of cot- 
ton-caps to Gibraltar. At that time, there was an import 
duty in the port of Tunis, and this duty, left to the whim 
of the raïa-marsa, that is to say, the harbor-master, was 
very arbitrary. The Marseilles captain quite naturally 
found himself subjected to this duty, and quite naturally, 
too, the raïa-marsa fixed it at an exorbitant sum. 

The Phocæans are hard to deal with in matters of 
impost. They do not forget that Marseilles, daughter of 
Phocæa, sister of Kome, and rival of Carthage, refused 
H * 


178 


TALES OF ALGEKIA. 


to pay impost to Julius Csesar. Now it is hard to pay a 
raïa-marsa what one refused to j)ay J ulius Cæsar. It was 
necessary, however, for the poor speculator to comply, he 
was under the lion’s paw. Yet, while leaving ÿiere a part 
of his skin, lie slipped between the lion’s claws, and ran to 
throw himself at the feet of the Bey. 

The Bey listened to the complaint of the giaour. Then, 
when he had heard the complaint, when he had satisfied 
himself that the amount stated as overcharged was correct, 
he said: “Do you wish Turkish justice, or French justice 
rendered you ?” 

The Marseillais considered for a moment, and with a con- 
fidence that did honor to the legislation of his native-land, 
replied : “ French justice.” 

“’Tis well,” said the Bey, “return to your vessel and 
wait.” 

The Captain kissed the slippers of His Highness, re- 
turned to his vessel, and waited. He waited one month, 
two months, three months. At the expiration of the third 
month, finding the waiting rather long, he went ashore and 
posted himself on the passage of Bey. The Bey ap- 
proached. The Captain threw himself at his feet. “Your 
Highness,” said he, “ you have forgotten me.” 

“Not at all,” replied the Bey ; “ you are the Frank cap- 
tain who came to comj3lain to me of the raia-marsa. 

“ And to whom you promised justice.” 

“Yes! hut French justice.” 

“ Undoubtedly,” returned the Captain. 

“Very well,” said the Bey, “of what do you com- 
plain?” 

“ Of uselessly awaiting this justice for three months.” 

“ Listen,” said the Bey. “ It is three years since your 
Consul was wanting in respect to me ; I complained, three 
years ago, to your King, demanding justice, and I have 


FEENCH JUSTICE AND TUEKISH JUSTICE. 179 


been waiting for three years: come back in three years, 
and we shall see.^^ 

“The deuce exclaimed the Captain, who began to 
understand^; “and is there no way of shortening the delay, 
your Highness ?” 

“You asked for French justice.” 

“ But in case I had asked for Turkish justice ?” 

“That would have been another thing; justice would 
have been done instantly.” 

“ Is there still time to reconsider what I said ?” 

“ It is never too late to do well.” 

“ Turkish justice then, your Highness! Turkish justice!” 
cried the Captain. 

“ Then follow me,” said the Bey. 

The Captain kissed the slippers of the Bey and followed 
him. The Bey alighted at his palace and introduced the 
Captain. 

“ How much did the raïa-marsa exact from you ?” in- 
quired the Bey. 

“ Fifteen hundred francs.” 

“And you think that sum too large?” 

“Your Highness, that is my humble opinion.” 

“ Too large, by how much ?” 

“ By two-thirds, at least.” 

“ Exactly ! here are fifteen hundred piastres, which make 
just one thousand francs.” 

“Your Highness,” said the Captain, “you are the scales 
of justice ;” and he kissed the slippers of the Bey. Then 
he prepared to go. 

“ Have you no other claim to make upon me ?” said the 
Bey, stopping him. 

“ I might have one, your Highness, but I dare not.” 

“ Dare,” said the Bey. 

“ It seems to me that there is due to me some indemnity 


180 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


for the time that I have lost in waiting for the memorable 
decision which you have just rendered.’^ 

“ Of course,’^ replied the Bey. 

“All the more,” continued the Captain, — emboldened by 
the approbation of the Bey, — “all the more, because I was 
expected at Gibraltar about the beginning of winter, and 
here we are at the end of it ; and because the favorable 
time for the sale of my cargo will have passed before I can 
reach that port.” 

“And of what is your cargo composed?” inquired the 
Bey. 

“ Of cotton-caps, your Highness.” 

“What do you mean by cotton-caps?” 

The Captain drew from his pocket a specimen of his mer- 
chandise, and handed it to the Bey. 

“ What is the use of this utensil ?” demanded the latter. 

“To put on the head,” replied the Captain, and suiting 
the action to the word, he put on the cap which they were 
discussing. 

“ It is very ugly,” said the Bey. 

“But it is very comfortable,” answered the Captain. 

“And you say that the delay in receiving justice, for 
which I am responsible, was the cause of loss to you ?” 

“The loss of ten thousand francs at least, your High- 
ness.” 

“Wait,” said the Bey. 

The Bey called his Secretary. The Secretary entered, 
crossed his hands on his breast, and bowed to the ground, 
and the Bey said to him, “ Seat yourself there, and write.” 

The Secretary obeyed. His Highness dictated several 
lines, of which the Captain understood absolutely nothing, 
owing to the fact that they were Arabic. Then, when the 
Secretary had finished : “Very well !” said the Bey, “cause 
this amra to he proclaimed throughout the city.” 


FRENCH JUSTICE AND TURKISH JUSTICE. 181 


The Secretary crossed his hands on his breast, bowed to 
the ground, and withdrew. 

I beg your pardon ?” said the Captain. 

“ What more ?” inquired the Bey. 

“Can I, without indiscretion, ask your Highness the 
tenor of this decree ?” 

“Assuredly, it is an order to all the Jews of Tunis to 
j)rovide themselves within twenty-four hours with cotton- 
caps, under penalty of having their heads cut off.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed the Captain, “I understand.” 

“Then, if you understand, return to your vessel, and 
take out the greater part of your merchandise : you will 
not have to wait long for customers.” 

The Captain threw himself at the feet of the Bey, kissed 
his slippers, and went aboard his vessel. 

During this time, they w^ere proclaiming, in the streets 
of Tunis, to the sound of trumpets the following amra : 

“ Praise be to God, Sole Buler of the Universe, from 
whom all things proceed. On the part of the slave of the 
glorified God, — of him who implores pardon and absolu- 
tion, — The Mouchir Sidi Hussein Bashaw, Bey of Tunis, 
forbids every Jew and Christian to appear in the streets 
of Tunis without having cotton-caps on their infidel and 
accursed heads. This under penalty of having their heads 
cut off. Giving to the miscreants only twenty-four hours 
to procure the aforesaid head-dress. 

“ To this order implicit obedience is due. 

“Written the 20th of April, in the year 1243 of the 
Hegira.” 

One can imagine the efiect X)roduced in the streets of 
Tunis by such a publication. The twenty-five thousand 
Jew^s wdio form the Israelitish population of the city stared 
at each other aghast, asking each other what was this eighth 
plague that was descending upon the people of God. 

16 


182 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


The wisest Eabbis were interrogated, but none of them 
had a very distinct idea of what a cotton-cap was. At 
last, a Gourni, — thus the Jews of Leghorn are called, 
remembered that he had one day seen a Norman crew, 
ornamented with that head-dress, enter the port of the 
aforesaid city. To know the object to be procured 
was at least something gained : it remained to ascertain 
where to procure it. Twelve thousand cotton-caps are not 
to be found at a moment’s notice. 

The men wrung their hands, the women tore their hair, 
and the^îChildren ate dirt. And all raised their hands to 
heaven crying out, “ God of Israel, thou who didst cause 
manna to fall, tell us where to find cotton-caps!” 

At the moment Avhen their distress was at its height, 
when their cries were most heart-rending, a report spread 
among the multitude. A vessel laden with cotton-caps was 
in the port. People inquired. She was, it was said, a three- 
master from Marseilles. But, would there be twelve thou- 
sand cotton-caps aboard? would there be enough cotton- 
caps for everybody ? 

They rushed to the boats, they crowded as in a shipwreck ; 
and a real flotilla covered the bay, advancing by means of 
oars toward the roadstead. At Goulette, the boats got afoul 
of each other ; five or six of them swamped, but as there 
are only four feet of water in the lake at Tunis, no one was 
drowned. They passed the strait, and took their course for 
the three masts of “ Our Guardian Lady.” 

The Captain was waiting on deck. By means of a spy- 
glass, he had seen the embarkation, the struggle, the 
shipwreck — ^lie had seen all. In less than ten minutes he 
had three hundred boats around him. Twelve thousand 
voices shouted desperately : “ Cotton-caps ! Cotton-caps !” 

The Captain made a sign with his hand : it was under- 
stood that he requested silence, and every one hushed. 


FRENCH JUSTICE AND TURKISH JUSTICE. 183 


“You ask for cotton-caps,” said he. 

“Yes ! yes ! yes !” was responded on every side. 

“ Very well !” said the Captain ; “ hut you know, gentle- 
men, that the cotton-cap is an article very much in demand 
at the present time. I have received news from Europe, an- 
nouncing that cotton-caps are high.” 

“ W e know that,” said the voices ; “ we know that, and 
we are ready to make some sacrifice to obtain them.” 

“ Listen,” said the Captain, “ I am an honest man.” 

The J ews trembled. It was thus that they always began 
their discourse, when they prepared to flay a Christian. 

“ I will not take advantage of this circumstance to be 
extortionate.” 

The Jews turned pale. 

“The cotton-caps, taking the lot, cost me forty sous 
a-piece.” 

“ Well now ! that is not too dear,” murmured the Jews. 

“ I shall be satisfied with a profit of one hundred per cent.” 

“ Hurrah,” shouted the Jews. 

“ Cotton-caps at four francs apiece !” said the Captain. 
Twelve thousand arms stretched forth. 

“ Order,” said the Captain ; “ enter on the port side, and 
leave by the starboard.” 

Each Jew crossed the deck, received a cotton-cap, and 
paid four francs. The Captain put into his strong box forty- 
eight thousand francs, of which thirty-six thousand were 
clear profit. The twelve thousand Jews returned to Tunis, 
each richer by a cotton-cap, but poorer by four francs. The 
next day, the Captain presented himself at the palace of 
the Bey. 

“ Ah ! it is you,” said the Bey. 

The Captain prostrated himself at the feet of the Bey, 
and kissed his slippers. 

“AVell?” inquired the Bey. 


184 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“Well! your Highness,” said the Captain; “I come to 
thank you.” 

“ You are satisfied ?” 

“ Enchanted !” 

“ And you prefer Turkish justice to French justice?” 

“ There is not the slightest comparison.” 

“ You are not through yet.” 

“ How am I not through ?” 

“ No, wait,” said the Bey. 

The Captain waited. The expression had no longer 
any terrors for him. The Bey called his Secretary. The 
Secretary entered, crossed his hands on his breast, and 
bowed to the ground. 

“ Write,” said the Bey. 

The Secretary took up a pen : the Bey dictated : 

“Praise be to God, Sole Euler of the Universe, from 
whom all things proceed. On the part of the slave of the 
glorified God, — of him who implores pardon and abso- 
lution, — the Mouchir, Sidi Hussein BashaAV, Bey of Tunis, 
forbids, by the present amra, all Jews to appear in the 
streets of Tunis, with cotton-caps on their heads, under 
penalty of having their heads cut ofi*. Twenty-four hours 
allowed to every owner of a cotton-cap to get rid of it as 
advantageously as possible. 

“ To this order implicit obedience is due. 

“Written the 21st of April, in the year 1243 of the 
Hegira.” 

“ Do you understand ?” inquired the Bey of the Captain. 

“ Oh ! your Highness,” exclaimed the latter, enthusi- 
astically ; “you are the greatest Bey that ever lived !” 

“ If you think so, return to your vessel and Avait.” 

In half an hour, the trumpet again resounded in the 
streets of Tunis, and the people flocked together at the un- 
usual signal. Amidst the .listeners, the JeAvs could be dis- 


FEENCH JUSTICE AND TUEKISH JUSTICE. 185 

tinguished by tbeir confident bearing, and by their cotton- 
caps cocked on one side. 

The amra was read in a loud and distinct voice. The 
first impulse of each Jew was to take his cotton-cap and 
pitch it into the fire. But, on reflection, the Elder of the 
Synagogue perceived that every one had twenty-four hours 
to get rid of his property. The Jew is essentially calcu- 
lating. Every Jew reckoned that it would be better to lose 
half, or even three-quarters, than to lose all. As they had 
twenty-four hours before them, they began by chafiering 
with the boatmen, who, on the first occasion, had taken ad- 
vantage of the crowd to fleece them. Then, the price hav- 
ing been settled, they started for the three-master. Two 
hours afterward she was surrounded with boats. 

“Captain! Captain!” shouted twelve thousand voices; 
“ cotton-caps for sale, cotton-caps for sale !” 

“ Pooh !” said the Captain. 

“Captain! now is your chance! Captain! you shall 
have them cheap.” 

“ I have received a letter from Europe,” said the Captain. 

“Well? well?” 

“ It announces a great fall in cotton-caps.” 

“ Captain, we are willing to lose on them.” 

“ Be it so,” said the Captain. “ I notify you then that I 
can take them back only at half-price.” 

“Very well, let it be half-price.” 

“ I paid forty sous apiece for them. Those who wish to 
sell their cotton-caps for twenty sous, can enter on the port 
side and leave by the starboard.” 

“ Oh, Captain !” 

“You can take my offer or let it alone.” 

“ Captain !” 

“ Holloa ! all hands on deck to make sail !” shouted the 
Captain. 


186 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“ Wliat are you doing, Captain, what are you doing ?” 

“ Eh, parbleu ! I am weighing anchor.” 

“ Captain ! say forty sous.” 

The Captain continued to give orders for making sail. 

“ Captain ! say thirty sous.” 

The main-sail was unfurled, and one could hear tho 
creaking of the chain on the windlass. 

Captain ! Captain ! we consent !” 

“ Stop !” shouted the Captain. 

One by one the Jews clambered up the port side, and 
left by the starboard. Every one restored his cotton-cap, 
and received twenty sous. They had twice saved their 
heads for the trifle of three francs : it was not dear. 

As for the Captain, he had regained his goods, and there 
remained thirty-six thousand francs of clear profit. As he 
was a well-bred man, he took eighteen thousand francs in 
his boat, and departed for the palace of the Bey. 

“Well?” inquired the Bey. 

The Captain prostrated himself in the dust, and kissed 
the Bey’s slippers. 

“ Well ! I come to thank your Highness.” 

“ Are you satisfied ?” 

“ Enraptured !” 

“ Do you consider the indemnity sufficient ?” 

“ I consider it excessive, so I come to offer your High- 
ness ” 

“What?” 

“ One-half of’ the thirty-six thousand francs that I have 
realized.” 

" “ Come now !” said the Bey, “did I not promise to render 
you Turkish justice?” 

“ Doubtless.” 

“Well! Turkish justice is rendered gratis” 

“By heavens!” said the Captain, “in France a judge 


FRENCH JUSTICE AND TURKISH JUSTICE. 187 

would not have been contented with half, he would have 
taken at least three-quarters.’’ 

“ There is your mistake,” said the Bey, “ he would have 
taken all.” 

“Come, come!” rejoined the Captain; “I see that you 
are as well acquainted with France as I am.” And he 
prostrated himself in the dust to kiss the slippers of the 
Bey : but the latter presented his hand. 

The Captain returned to his vessel, with his eighteen 
thousand francs. A quarter of an hour afterward, he set 
sail under a press of canvas. He feared lest the Bey 
should change his mind. 

The Jews never knew the cause of the two amras of a 
tenor so conflicting. They understood only what was easy 
to understand, that it had pleased their all-powerful lord 
to levy on them a sort of tax. But this tax, quite different 
from other taxes, had left a pleasant remembrance — ^that 
of the elegant head-dress which they had worn for twenty- 
four hours, and which they regarded as far preferable Jo 
their yellow caps or their black turbans. So, on the acces- 
sion of the present Bey to the throne, — and every one 
knows that an accession is a period of favors, — they re- 
quested that the privilege of wearing the cotton-cap should 
be granted them. The Bey, seeing no objection to grant- 
ing them this favor, as in truth the cotton-cap is a great 
partisan of progress, authorized that graceful head-dress, 
which is an essential and typical sign of European civiliza- 
tion. Hence the incredible number of cotton-caps that I 
noticed on the quay at Goulette. 

At present, it is not necessary to apply for the desired 
goods, either at Manilla, Leghorn, or Gibraltar. The old 
Turks themselves knit cotton-caps. 


TUNIS THE WHITE. 


A bout two o’clock in the afternoon, Captain Bérard 
arrived with his yawl, and we set out for Tunis — every 
one in our boat. 

The gut, or passage between the sea and the lake, is 
scarcely twenty metres Avide ; and as the lake is not deep, 
no vessel of much draught can enter. The aspect of this 
lake is strange, and like another Dead Sea. The water is 
reddish, and, they say, unwholesome. At intervals piles, 
which rise a foot or two above the surface of the water, 
indicate the course to. be pursued. On each of these piles, 
diT)oping, silent, with folded wings, — ^like the birds carved 
on tombs, — perches a cormorant, which dives whenever a 
fish passes Avithin its reach, rises to the surface of the 
Avater, takes its place on its pile, and, motionless, Avatches 
for another haul. These fish, A\diich are not hurtful to the 
sea-foAvl, are, they say, often fatal to the Arabs and Chris- 
tians Avho have the imprudence to eat them. Their 
unAvholesomeness arises from the foulness of the waters of 
the lake. 

Occasionally, from one point or another of the lake, 
rises a flock of flamingoes Avhich, Avith out-stretched necks 
and legs, traverses the Avatery plain, forming a horizontal 
line as straight as if drawn with pencil and ruler. Each 
bird appears a red object like an ace of diamonds, a flock 
producing the effect of a pack of cards gifted Avith Avings. 
The Avhole of this sheet of Avater, is also covered Avith 
18S 


TUNIS THIT WHITE. 


189 


ducks, gulls, coots and divers, disporting with the sense of 
security belonging to animals in wild countries. 

Whilst approaching Tunis, which grew more and more 
distinct to the view, we crossed the track of heavy boats, 
often touching bottom ; propelled by strength of arm, and 
by means of long poles, with wdiich the sailors find a 
support three feet below the surface of the water. At dusk, 
after a trip of three hours’ duration, w^e touched the end of 
the jetty. This point was crowded with Europeans, half- 
dressed in European, and half in Arab costume, and almost 
all wearing the cotton-cap already described. On asking 
who these men were, w^e were answered, “ Gourni, Gourni.” 

At the end of this jetty. Monsieur Laporte was w^aiting 
for us. He was an attaché of the Consulate at Leg- 
horn ; acting, at that moment, in place of Monsieur Lago, 
who had accompanied the Bey to Paris. He had brought 
his cabriolet, drawn by two horses driven by an Arab 
postillion. As all ten of us could not get into Monsieur 
Laporte’s cabriolet, we declared that we w'ould go afoot 
the quarter of a league to the city, whose dazzling white- 
ness was growing dim in the gray shades of evening. 

The jetty on which we had landed — varying in width, 
and jutting out into the sea, like the barb of a lance, 
widening as it approaches Tunis — was covered with frame- 
work and building materials. 

With the rapidly descending darkness, appeared one of 
the characteristics of the East. Before us and behind us, 
began to troop dogs — ^hideous masterless dogs, the savage 
aspect of which partakes of the appearance of the fox and 
the wolf, and which with bristling hair and erect tail howl 
at the passers. These dogs followed us in packs, as if curi- 
ous to see the strangers. One, in particular, on top of a 
long wall, accompanied us ; barking, and at every moment 
pretending to pounce upon us. Two or three times I 


190 


TALES Ot' ALGERIA. 


sighted my rifle at him. Monsieur Laporte stopped me. 
AVhen we reached the city gates, the dogs left us. I confess, 
that, for my part, I was not ill-pleased to get rid of the 
barking escort. A European who should risk himself at 
night on that waste which extends from the walls of the 
city to the shores of the lake, would infallibly be de- 
voured. 

We plunged under the dark and crooked vault that 
serves for entrance to Tunis. It leads to a little square 
in which the market is held. Opposite this little square 
stands a house with green Yenetian-blinds, the only 
European house that I observed in Tunis. It was the resi- 
dence of the English Consul. The French Consulate was a 
hundred paces from the door. We entered the latter, and 
I gladly perceived that it was an entirely Moorish dwelling. 
I say gladly, because Monsieur Laporte had secured me for 
his guest. Not being able, to his great regret, to accom- 
modate all of us, he wished at least to retain me. 

Supper over, Laporte presented us to the residents of the 
Consulate, Monsieur Rousseau, and Monsieur Cotelle. Two 
charming sisters, two Parisians of Snlj^rna, — that is to say, 
combining all the Asiatic grace with our European coquetry, 
— did the honors of a couple of little rooms furnished in 
the French style, in which, alternately, we passed the 
fl'ieting hours of the evening. They were the wives of 
these gentlemen. 

Would you like to know wdiat they talked about that 
evening at Tunis ? Ma foi ! of balls, hunting, Victor Hugo, 
the Théâtre Historique,* Madame Lehon, Madame de Con- 
tade, our pretty women, the Opera, Nestor Roqueplan — ■ 
what not ? It seemed to me as if I had not left Paris, and 
as if chatting at my fireside in Mont Blanc Street, or un- 
der the huge trees of Monte Cristo. 


* Instituted at Paris, by Lumas, to produce Lis o-rti pieces. — Trans. 


TUNIS THE WHITE. 


191 


The evening passed quickly, and, at midnight, our 
friends, escorted by a Janissary, set out in search of their 
hotel, whilst I was conducted to my chamber. Having 
reached my chamber, I opened the casement upon a mag- 
nificent moonlight that illuminated my window-panes, and 
then I found myself again in Tunis. My window exactly 
overlooked a sort of suburb, and, even in the streets, I saw 
wandering those packs of howling dogs with which we had 
had to do on our arrival : but night had increased their 
numbers to their full complement, and the concert rejoiced 
in all its harmony. I know of nothing, except the hyenas 
and jackals of Djema r’ Azouat, that can rival the dogs of 
Tunis. 

However, the landscape spread out afar, calm and grand. 
A splendid palm tree, motionless amidst the breezeless air, 
plumed à little mosque which lay in the foreground. Then 
the view extended over the lake, from the surface of which 
arose, from time to time, the strange note of a marsh-fowl. 
At the extremity of the lake, one could distinguish, cloud- 
like, Goulette ; then, beyond Goulette, something vague and 
boundless, which one could divine to be the sea. On the 
right, stretched away the great circle of mountains which 
encompass the Bay of Tunis ; on the left, projected Cape 
Carthage. This time, I confess, I more completely forgot 
Paris for Tunis, than, one hour previously, I had forgotten 
Tunis for Paris. 


THE CITY OF TUNIS. 


TT^OR the following day, at seven o’clock, we had an ap- 
^ pointment at the Consulate, to scour the streets of Tunis 
together. 

As usual, Boulanger and Giraud had gone off on their 
OAvn account. Where were they? No one knew. They 
had engaged a kind of Italian ruffian, and had put them- 
selves under his charge. Laporte wished to be my cicerone, 
so I dashed after him into the streets of Tunis. 

The streets have no names, the houses no numbers. When 
one wishes to give an address to a person, he indicates the 
place, as well as he can, by the vicinity of a bazaar, or a 
mosque, a café, or a shop. 

Europeans cannot hold real estate in Tunis, they rent. 
As for the Moors, they hold it either by inheritance or by 
purchase. If one of them is straitened for room, he ob- 
tains leave from the Bey, throws an arch across the street, 
and extends his chamber over the arch. If, in the opera- 
tion, he blocks up a window on the opposite side of the 
street, so much the worse for the owner of the window. 

One of the first things that struck me was the sight of 
manuscript placards on the walls. Of printing, as one can 
readily understand, there is none at Tunis. The placards 
announced the theatrical performances of that evening. 
The plays were, Michel et CliTistine,” and “Le Déserteur.” 
I was at first inclined to be provoked. Truly, it was worth 
while to have come to Tunis, to find the Gymnase and the 
192 


THE CITY OF TUNIS. 


193 


Opéra-Comique there ! But Laporte soothed me by request- 
ing my good-will for his protégés. The theatrical manager 
was Madame Saqui. The company which had undertaken 
to present to the Tunisians this specimen of our literature 
was a company of children. ,Pity took possession of me, 
as you can well understand. A company of poor children, 
at Tunis, six hundred leagues from their country — it was 
enough to bring tears into one’s eyes ! 

There was to be a play that evening. I promised La- 
porte to be present ; but on condition that he would allow 
me to tear down all the placards that I might come across, 
provided also that I would indemnify Madam Saqui for 
the diminution that I should cause in her receipts. 

Those confounded placards spoiled Tunis in my eyes. 
This was because Tunis is a true Turkish city — except that 
the spread of Islamism has stopped there. The religion 
of Mahomet has finished its civilizing task. The Arabs, 
driven back into Africa, appear no longer to receive new 
elements of exterior life. Now they have reached that 
period when, among nations, the interior life no longer 
suffices. 

Tunis, — a city of about a hundred and fifty thousand 
souls, — Tunis goes, so to speak, in rags. Scorched by a 
heat of one hundred and thirteen degrees of the ther- 
mometer, the houses are crumbling into dust. People prop 
them up, but they no longer rebuild. Every house that 
falls in Tunis remains a ruin, and, every day, one hears 
that a house has fallen. These corpses of houses, less 
habitable than those of Pompeii, give the city a marvel- 
lously gloomy appearance. The Arab wrapped in his bur- 
noose, the Arab,— that living tradition of ancient times, — 
the Arab, with his grave face, his bare legs, his long beard, 
and Ms crooked staff*, like that of the olden shepherds, 
stands out in admirable relief on the jagged débris of a 
17 I 


194 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


crumbling house. Amongst us, in our thronged streets, at 
the doors of our shops, the Arab is an anomaly. Yonder, 
stretched on a mound of fallen stones, standing at the base 
of a ruined triumphal arch, seated on a desert shore, the 
Arab is in the setting which becomes him. He makes, if 
one may so speak, solitude more solitary, nothingness more 
void. 

Nothing can convey an idea of the streets of Tunis. 
Sometimes a tree — ^generally a fig-tree — ^has protruded itself 
through the opening formed by the window of a house, or 
through a rent in a w^all ; then it has spread, obstructing 
the way, without anybody’s ever having had the idea of 
lopping ofi* one of its branches ; so that at present, it has 
possession of the street. Twenty or thirty years of owner- 
ship have rendered its title secure. One must stoop to 
pass. On stormy days, it shakes, it shatters the fostering 
shelter that of old warmed its seed into life. Some day, 
with a final toss, it will topple the house down, and the 
débris will be heaped on its gnarled and venerable trunk, 
which, covered with verdure, will spring from a mound 
of ruins in which the lizard will bask and the adder 
glide. 

After having surveyed some of the streets which I have 
just endeavored to describe; which were inhabited by 
Moorish women like spectres, and by Jewish women with 
brilliant costumes, we entered the bazaar. There we found 
Giraud and Boulanger taking their cofiee on the threshold 
of a little Moorish shop, with the proprietor of which they 
had already struck up an acquaintance. They introduced 
us to Signor Mustapha, who immediately ordered as many 
cups as there were new-comers. Signor Mustapha spoke 
Italian, or rather lingua franca, so that we were able to 
understand one another without having recourse^ to an 
interpreter. 


THE CITY OF TUNIS. 


195 


Half the shop had been already examined, owing to the 
diligence of Boulanger and Giraud. 

By a Moorish shop, one must not picture to himself any- 
thing that resembles a French shop. A Moorish shop is a 
kind of oven hollowed out of the wall ; the threshold of 
which the dealer occupies, motionless, with eyes rolled up 
in ecstasy, with pipe in mouth, and with one foot slippered, 
the other bare. In this attitude, the dealer awaits his cus- 
tomer, never addressing him. The smoke of his hashish— 
for generally it is hashish that he smokes, and not tobacco 
— gives him dreams so pleasant, that it is almost painful to 
him to be aroused from them by the buyer. The very 
reverse of our fashion, it is the buyer who is obliged to 
bear the burden of the conversation. In the East, from 
time immemorial, he who buys has need to buy, since he 
takes the trouble to make the purchase, but he who sells 
never has need to sell. So the Moorish dealer, momentarily 
aroused from his ecstasy, sinks back into it immediately. 
It is your business to take the article at the price, if you 
find the price reasonable. But do not offer him more or 
less. Should you offer him more, he would think it a joke 
■ — less, he would consider it an insult. 

Of course the Moor must not be confounded with the 
Jew. In contrast with the Moor, inert, ecstatic, inflexible, 
there is the Jew, — the Jew, a trader to the very core, — the 
Jew, soliciting customers, — the Jew, overcharging, hag- 
gling, abating. To the Jew offer half price, and then, per- 
haps, you will be robbed. With the Moor, take your purse, 
put it in his hand, and say, “ Pay yourself” 

We had arrived early, that is to say, about mid-day. At 
mid-day the auction-sales commence. A person must have 
seen one of these sales to enable him to form an idea of the 
witches’ sabbath. The articles sold at auction are coffers, 
burnooses, haiks, sashes, and carpets from Smyrna and 


196 


TALES OF ALGEKIA. 


Tripoli. At two o’clock, the infernal hubbub ceases, as if 
by enchantment ; the crowd disperses, and the business is 
over. 

I bought a coffer, all of mother-of-pearl and tortoise-shell, 
a coffer five feet long by two broad, a real coffer of the . 
“ Arabian Nights one of the coffers by the aid of which 
the sultanas of Bagdad introduced their lovers when living, 
and had them removed when dead. In Paris, I should not 
have dared to ask the price of it ; in Tunis I bought it for 
three hundred and sixty francs. Then I bought carpets 
from Smyrna and Tripoli, all at the tenth part of their 
value in France. 

The Moors hawked trinkets. There were some who 
traversed the bazaar, with their arms from elbow to wrist 
laden with gold chains, hooks for fastening haiks, bracelets 
made of sequins, and chatelaines, from the ends of which 
hung talismans. All these trinkets were second-hand ar- 
ticles, sold by weight. Modern manufacture is dead. Fami- 
lies sell their inheritance from their ancestors in proportion 
to the pressure of their necessities. 

To ascertain the price of a trinket which one wishes to 
buy, one must conduct the dealer to an inspector : there 
are three or four inspectors in the market. The inspector 
tests the gold, weighs the trinket, and states the price. 
Purchase if, after the trinket has been tested and weighed, 
it suits you ; for if the inspector has deceived you by so 
much as a grain, or by the weight of a carat, you have but 
to lodge a complaint against him. If the accusation be 
acknowledged just, the inspector will have his head cut off. 

Nothing can be more picturesque than this bazaar. 
From these poor little shops, which with us would be de- 
spised by match-dealers, issue all the fabrics of the East ; 
marvellous tissues with their gold-embroidered flowers ex- 
ecuted by hand, so fresh that they seem to have blown 


THE CITY OF TUNIS. 


197 


during the night; all this, amidst a cloud of fragrant 
smoke, and in an atmosphere of perfume maintained by 
flagons of attar of roses uncorked every moment to serve 
as a prospectus to purchasers. 

Now, what cannot be described, what neither pen nor 
pencil can portray, is the contrast afforded by the Turkish 
or the Moorish serenity, and the Jewish excitement; — is the 
concourse of pedestrians of all nations sweeping through 
the narrow streets of the bazaar, where, at the same time, 
pass horses, camels, water-carriers, charcoal-men ; — are the 
cries in all tongues, floating above this one-storied Tower 
of Babel. 

We could not at first tear ourselves away from the shop 
of our friend Mustapha. It is true that, observing Mon- 
sieur Laporte with us, he had abated his Moorish dignity, 
and had turned everything upside-down in the shop, in 
which we left a hundred louis. At last, I managed to tear 
myself away from this island of loadstone ; but in spite of 
all the inducements that I could offer, I was not able to 
drag away either Giraud or Boulanger. Everything ap- 
peared to them worth sketching, and drawings multiplied 
in their sketch-books with that marvellous rapidity which 
is one of the characteristics of talent. 

As for me, I had wished to take notes, but I soon re- 
linquished the idea. It would have been necessary to jot 
down everything ; for every new object presented itself with 
a character of strangeness for wdiich it was indebted to the 
brilliant play of light, to the general effect of the picture 
in which it was introduced, and even to the mood in which 
we found ourselves, quite as much as to its own peculiarity. 
To mention through w’hat street we set out is impossible, 
to specify the quarters which we visited, I cannot. Sud- 
denly Laporte stopped, and said to me. “ Ah ! would you 
like me to introduce you to the sheik Medina.’^ 


198 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


“ What is the sheik Medina,” I replied. 

“ He is the Sheik of the city ; the Prefect of Police, as it 
were ; the Delessert of the place.” 

“ Peste ! indeed I should i” said I. “ The Prefect of Po- 
lice of a Turkish city is an admirable acquaintance.” 

“ Come in, then ; we are opposite his Court,” rejoined La- 
porte. 

We crossed the threshold of a sort of stable, and per- 
ceived a magnificent old man of seventy-five or eighty 
years of age, seated crossed-legged on a kind of stone daïs 
covered with matting. He held the long stem of a pipe in 
his hand, and through the cloud of smoke, and slightly 
veiled by it, one could see his superb head, with its long 
white beard contrasting with dark velvety eyes which might 
have belonged to a man of thirty. 

Laporte explained the cause of our visit, and endeavored 
— a pretty difficult task — to make him comprehend who I 
was. The word taleb (savant) suggests to a Turk no idea 
but that of a man who, with an inkstand thrust in his 
girdle, in lieu of a poniard, relates tales in the cofiee-houses. 
The reception of the sheik Medina was not the less gracious. 
He laid his hand on his breast, bowed, assured me that I 
was welcome, and ordered in pipes and cofiee. We drank, 
and we smoked. 

If in France, for but three days, I should do the same 
execution on our corporal tobacco and chicory cofiee, that, 
for three months, I did on the real articles in Africa, the 
fourth day I should be dead. 

We conversed about the tranquillity of Tunis. If one 
might credit its Sheik, Tunis is perfectly angelic : there are 
never any murders, scarcely ever any robberies, unless of 
Christians or Jews — which do not count. 

Whilst we were chatting, two handsome young men, — 
one of twenty-five years of age, the other about thirty, — 


THE CITY OF TUNIS. 


199 


dressed in the Turkish costume, entered in turn, made their 
report to the Sheik, and retired. They were his two sons, 
entrusted, subordinately, with the administration of the 
police department, and acting under their father’s orders. 
I was presented to them, and recommended to their care. 
I was assured that, by virtue of this introduction and 
recommendation, I could, by day or night, ramble about 
Tunis, without the slightest fear — ^but, on two conditions. 
The first was that, at nightfall, I would provide myself 
with a lantern ; the second, that, after nine o’clock at 
night, I would not leave the city, on account of the dogs, 
upon which all the influénce of the sheik Medina and his 
two sons was not cJf the slightest avail. 

After conversing an hour, I took leave of my host. I 
had noticed an elegantly formed lamp which hung from 
the ceiling. I asked Laporte where I could find a similar 
one. He inquired of the Sheik, who replied something 
which I could not understand, and which I did not have 
translated, as it appeared to be the desired address. 

At a hundred paces from this sort of Court-House, I 
stopped in ecstasy before the door of a hair-dresser. I had 
never seen so charming a door : one might have called it a 
miniature door of the Alhambra of Granada, or of the 
Alcazar of Seville. . It was made of wood, ornamented with 
three Oriental ogives, and carved with a delicacy of finish' 
that rendered it a marvellous gem. The first idea that oc- 
curred to me was to purchase the door. I entered the 
place of the hair-dresser. He thought that I came to have 
my hair cropped. It seemed to him a good opportunity, so 
he presented me with a seat, and with one hand tendered me 
a mirror, while with the other he took up a razor. But I 
made a sign to him that, like Samson, I was extremely 
partial to my locks. 

Laporte here explained that my visit had an entirely 


200 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


different motive ; that, in passing, I had noticed the marvel 
of cabinet-ware which served as a door for his house ; and 
that we wished to know w hether he w’ ould consent to part with 
it. The hair-dresser was for some time at a loss to account 
for this freak. I even think that he never thoroughly 
understood it. The idea of a man’s coming from Paris 
to buy his shop-door did not readily enter his brain. ^ he 
refused. It was evident, however, that he refused in the 
conviction that I wished to make game of him ; although 
I believe that there is not, in Arabic, a verb which signi- 
fies, to make game. 

At last, the diplomatic character with which Laporte 
was invested, seemed to impart seriousness to the proposi- 
tion. Then the hair-dresser pondered a while, and demanded 
fifteen hundred piastres. Fifteen hundred piastres brought 
the sum to about a thousand francs; which makes me 
think that the hair-dresser was a Jew, and not an Arab. 
The price appeared to me exorbitant. Made in France, 
the door would have cost that ; purchased yonder, it was 
worth fifty crowns. I offered two hundred francs. The 
hair-dresser slammed the merchandise in our faces. 

I had a good mind to return the compliment, which 
seemed rather a rough one ; but, around us had congregated 
a ring of natives of the country, who were not less astonished 
than w^as the hair-dresser at the longing which possessed 
the giaour. It therefore occurred to the giaour, that in 
case of a fight, he would not be the stronger party. Be- 
sides, the door indisputably belonged to the hair-dresser. 
In refusing to sell it, he was only exercising his right, and, 
strictly speaking, that right might e?:tend to slamming it in 
our faces. 

After having pursued a zigzag course through the city, 
we again found ourselves at the bazaar. Boulanger and 
Giraud had not left it. They had discovered some things 


THE CITY OF TUNIS. 


V 


201 


which I had not seen at the first glance. There was a 
bazaar for arms, where, for sixty-five francs, I bought a pair 
of silver-mounted pistols; a shop of copper-ware, where, 
for thirty-five francs a-piece, I bought ewers of charming 
form ; a street where there was nobody but dealers in slip- 
pers. The examination of these new objects detained us 
until about two o’clock in the afternoon. The dinner-hour 
approached. Laporte had invited us all to dine with him, 
so we returned to the Consulate. 

In the court-yard, I found the elder son of the sheik 
Medina. In his hand he held the lamp which I had re- 
marked at his father’s house, which lamp the hospitable 
old 'man begged me to accept. But that was not all. Four 
men supported the hair-dresser’s door, which, also, the 
Sheik begged jne to accept. 

This second present demanded some explanation. The 
explanation was very simple. The sheik Medina, in his. 
capacity of Chief of Police, had inquired the cause of 
the crowd which, from a distance, he observed at the bar- 
ber’s door. He had learned that it had gathered in conse- 
quence of the desire which I had manifested to buy the 
door, and by the astonishment which that desire had excited 
among the people. He had also learned, both of the bar- 
ber’s refiisal at first to sell, and then, of the extravagant 
price which he had demanded. Thereupon, he had had 
the door carried ofi*, and he now presented it to me as a 
token of his particular friendship. As a substitute for the 
absent barrier, he had posted in front of the shop a sen- 
tinel to stand guard there day and night until a new door 
should protect the barber’s goods. Of course, the sentinel 
was to be paid by the barber ; a measure which, in the 
opinion of the Sheik, would expedite the construction of 
the new door. 

At first, I had almost as much difficulty in comprehending 


202 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


the offer of the honorable Prefect of the Tunisian Police, 
as the barber had had in realizing my request to purchase. 
AVhen I understood it, I was at my wits’ end. Then I em- 
ployed all my eloquence, in order to make the honest young 
fellow understand that it was impossible for me to accept 
• such a gift. The idea of property could no more enter his 
head than it could get into Monsieur Proudhon’s. At last, 
I explained to him that, in France, it was not customary to 
take without paying ; in consequence of which, I declared 
that it was impossible for me to accept the door, whatever 
might have been my desire to possess it. He shook his 
head with an air which seemed to say, “ I thought France 
further advanced than that.” 

However, out of respect for my scruples, he left me free 
to return the door to its proprietor, murmuring, meanwhile, 
that my course set a bad example, and that if such things 
should occur often, they would bring discredit on the 
authorities. 

I had the door carried back by the four men who had 
brought it. I gave each of them a piastre, and sent a louis 
to the barber, to make amends for all the vexation which 
had befallen him, owing to the expression of my odd wish. 

As a matter of course, I accepted the lamp ; but I 
noticed that on leaving me the son of the Sheik seemed 
really vexed. However, he did not the less accept, for 
himself, as well as for his father and brother, the invitation 
which Laporte gave him, to come pass the evening of the 
next day at the Consulate. 


THE BEY DU CAMP. 


W E liad decided that the following day should he 
devoted to visiting the ruins of Carthage, but as 
matters fell out, we were not able to visit them until the 
day afterward. The delay happened in this wise. In the 
evening the Bey du Camp, who governed in the absence of 
his cousin who had gone to France, sent for Laporte, who 
waited upon him in answer to the summons. 

Tîîe Bey du Camp, according to his practice, received 
Laporte with the most gracious countenance. France has 
always patronized Tunis ; and the French at Tunis are not 
only in an ally’s country, but in a friendly one. After the 
first compliments, the Bey said : 

“ A French ship has arrived ?” 

“Yes, your Highness.” 

“ Do you know her name ?” resumed the Bey. 
“TheVéloce.” 

“ She fired a salute of twenty-one guns.” 

“ And you returned the salute,” observed Laporte. 

“ Certainly, I always salute your flag with pleasure.” 
Laporte bowed. 

“ Whom does she carry ?” asked the Bey. 

“ A French savant,” replied Laporte. 

“ A savant !” repeated the Bey. 

“Yes, your Highness.” 

The Bey considered for a moment, and said ; 

“ But why has she come ?” 


203 


204 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“For the purpose which I mentioned — ^to bring a sa- 
vant.” 

And what has this savant come to do ?” 

‘‘ He came to visit Tunis.” 

“ And he hired a vessel ?” 

“ No, the King, my master, lent him one.” 

“ The King, your master, lent him one of his vessels !” 
echoed the Bey. 

“ Yes, your Highness.” 

For what purpose ?” 

“ Why, as I had the honor to mention — ^for the purpose 
of visiting Tunis.” 

It was evident that the thing remained obscure to the 
mind of the Bey. The King of France lending one of his 
vessels to a taleb committed an action which was incompre- 
hensible to the mind of the good Mussulman. At l^t he 
said: 

“ Your savant, then, is a very powerful savant ?” 

“ Yes, indeed,” answered Laporte, laughing ; “ it is a two 
hundred and twenty horse-power savant.” 

“ Then I wish to see him. Bring him to me.” 

“ When shall I do so, your Highness ?” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“ At what hour ?” 

“ At twelve o’clock.” 

Laporte had bowed, retired, and had come on the run to ' 
announce to us the great piece of news. The matter in 
hand was no longer that of exploring the ruins of Carthage, 
but that of paying a visit to the Bey. We had fortunately 
our uniforms. We therefore put on full dress, small-clothes, 
swords at our sides. The Bey received us at Bardo, his 
pleasure-house. Bardo is situated about a league and a 
half from Tunis. We went there in a carriage. It blew 
a gale which could be compared only to the Mistral. At 


THE BEY DU CAMP. 


205 


some moments the wind which lashed the top of our 
cabriolet prevented the horse from advancing. The wind 
blew before it a dust which stung our faces as if each grain 
had been a particle of powdered glass. 

Soon we j)erceived Bardo. It is a collection of houses 
half Moorish, half Italian, which date back about one hun- 
dred and fifty years. At first sight it looks much more 
like a village than like a princely residence. Almost all 
the roofs are terraces, only three or four rising to a ridge. 
Amid the latter shoots up the arrowy spire of a minaret. 
The general effect is European. A population of dealers 
in various merchandise swarms around the den of the lion. 
We saw there, tailors, boot-makers, tobacconists, fruiterers. 
Doubtless they are employed to subsist, clothe, and shoe 
the garrison, the courtiers, and the prince himself. 

We were first presented to the Keeper of the Seals, who 
was waiting for us in the outer apartment. He at once 
made us traverse several rooms, and conducted us to the 
Bey du Camp, who was waiting for us in what he pomp- 
ously called the French Chamber. AVithout doubt, it was 
with the view of doing us honor that the Bey received us 
in his favorite apartment, in that which he regarded as the 
most sumptuous. 

The French Chamber is as like a café of suburban Paris 
as two drops of water are like each other. The sole portion 
. of the furniture in which Turkish customs had prevailed 
were the cushions. The room was surrounded by sofas, and 
His Highness, the Bey du Camp, squatting Turkish-fashion, 
decorated with all his orders in diamonds, was waiting for 
us, and smoking. 

The new sort of savant, without an inkhorn at his side, 
and with a dozen crosses and stars on his breast, struck him 
as strange. Yet I did not think I observed that my ap- 
pearance produced an unfavorable impression. He saluted 
18 


206 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


US by placing liis band on his heart, made me seat myself 
near him, and ordered coffee and pipes. Then, having 
allowed a reasonable time for consideration, he asked me 
whence I came last. I answered that I had just come from 
Spain. The ice having been broken, one question succeeded 
another. For what purpose had I been to Spain, he in- 
quired. 

I answered that I had the honor of being known to the 
King of France and the Princes ; that I had the misfor- 
tune of being on tolerably bad terms with the father, but 
the honor of being on tolerably good terms with the sons ; 
that one of these sons, of whom he had doubtless heard, 
wFo was dead, — ^Monsieur, the Duke d’ Orléans, — had more 
than once deigned to call me his friend ; that another son, 
still better known to him than the first mentioned, — Mon- 
sieur, the Duke de Montpensier, — had inherited his brother’s 
friendship for me, and had invited me to be present at his 
marriage, which had just taken place at Madrid; that hav- 
ing once reached Madrid, I had desired to push on to Al- 
giers, and once in Algiers, I had not been willing to leave 
Africa without having offered up a prayer on the tomb of 
St. Louis, who was, as he was aware, a great marabout ; 
that I was on the point of departure for the performance 
of this duty, when I had learned that he did me the honor 
of expecting a visit from me, and I had hastened to pre- 
sent my respects. 

All this was translated to the Bey by the interpreter ; 
but it was easy to see that my explanation did not entirely 
satisfy him. A taleb, the friend of the heir presumptive 
to the throne ! a taleb invited to the marriage of a prince 
of the blood ! a taleb commanding a steamer with engines 
of two hundred and twenty horse-power, and saluting him 
— him ! with twenty guns, to which at a venture he had 
replied, a courtesy which he looked as if he almost re- 


THE BEY DU CAMP. 


207 


grettcd : all this was novel, incredible ; and, most assuredly, 
had it not been for Laporte, who assented by nodding his 
head affirmatively at all the assertions which I made, he 
would not have believed them. 

During this time we were handed pipes crammed with 
Latakia tobacco, and coffee flavored with rose. Meanwhile 
the Keeper of the Seals, observing that the Prince had 
fallen into meditation, produced, doubtless, by what I had 
just said, had in his turn addressed me, and I was replying 
to the best of my ability, all the while not losing sight of 
the Bey, who on his part had begun a conversation with 
Laporte. Suddenly I saw his countenance sadden, and he 
heaved a sigh which might have passed for a groan. For 
an instant, I allowed him to abandon himself to his sad- 
ness, then, profiting by a moment of silence, and not divin- 
ing what shadow had passed over the spirit of our illustrious 
host, I asked what ailed His Highness. 

“ His Highness is very uneasy,” answered Laporte. 

“ About what ?” 

There is no news of His Highness, the reigning Bey, who, 
as you are aware, set out for France; and as it is known 
that a great storm has just swept over the Mediterra- 
nean, fears are entertained that he may have met with an 
accident. 

Suddenly an idea flashed through my mind. In leaving 
Algiers I had brought with me a number of the “ Presse,” 
which had arrived that very day. In starting for Bardo 
that morning, I had taken the paper to read on the way. 
It had remained in my pocket; but it certainly seemed to 
me that in the few lines of it which I had read, there was 
mention of the Bey of Tunis. I hastily drew the paper 
from my pocket, cast my eyes over the various items of 
news, and read this : 

This morning the Bey of Tunis arrived in Paris. His 


208 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


Highness, although a little fatigued by his voyage, is in the 
enjoyment of excellent health.” 

I handed the newspaper to Laporte. The Bey du Camp 
had been watching my proceedings. The quickness of our 
movements always absorbs the attention of the Orientals. 
They can divine nothing from our gestures : our gestures 
are more rapid than their thoughts. 

Laporte read, and, with a rapid movement, placed the 
newspaper before the eyes of the Bey du Camp, pointed 
out the two lines with his finger, at the same time translat- 
ing them into Arabic. 

“ Is it really so ?” inquired the Bey, who did not appear 
to have absolute confidence in newspapers. 

“ It is ofiicial,” replied Laporte. 

“And it was the savant who had the paper?” asked 
the Bey. 

“It was the savant.” 

He turned toward me, and his face assumed an expres- 
sion of perfect dignity. Said he : 

“As you are a savant, you must know one thing ” 

“ What, your highness ?” inquired I, bowing. 

“ It is that every bearer of good tidings has a right to a 
recompense commensurate with the goodness of the tidings. 
Your tidings are precious, and as I know nothing more 
precious than the illustrious Order of Nisham, I announce 
to you that my first words to my cousin, after having wel- 
comed his return, shall be to request him to confer on you 
that Order. If I myself were able to confer it on you, I 
would do so this very instant, but its disposal i^ a preroga- 
tive of the reigning Prince. Tell me where you reside, 
and if you delay but a month in returning home, your ser- 
vants, on your entering your house, shall place around your 
neck the pledge of my gratitude.” 

I deemed that the thing was so handsomely oflfered, 


THE BEY DU CAMP. 


209 


that I acted as I did in the case of the Sheik’s lamp — I 
accepted. 

The Keeper of the Seals asked me for my address, which 
I gave him. 

“ And now,” said the Bey to me, “ do you think that my 
cousin will stay long in Paris ?” 

“Your Highness,” I answered, “when visitors of your 
cousin’s rank come to Paris, Paris, dike Thebes, has a 
hundred gates to receive them, but not one to let them 
depart.” 

This compliment was tolerably Oriental, as you will 
observe. Doubtless the Bey found nothing more Arabic to 
say to me than what I had just said to him, so he bowed 
graciously. 

I took the salutation for a sign of dismissal. I charged our 
Master of Ceremonies with placing my respects at the feet 
of His Highness. I endeavored to harmonize my gestures 
with the interpreter’s words, and we departed, escorted to 
the door by the Keeper of the Seals. 

To mention finally the promise of the Bey, let me hasten 
to say that on returning to my house at Paris, in Joubert 
street, I really found in my Secretary’s hands the Order of 
Nisham, in which, I confess, I had never believed, and, 
moreover, on which I had bestowed no further thought. 

18 


CARTHAGE. -THE TOMB OF ST. LOUIS. 


T he next day was as much occupied as a day could 
well be. In the morning we visited the Chapel of St. 
Louis, and the ruins of Carthage. In the evening we were 
present at a grand ball at the Consulate. 

We were not able to get Giraud and Boulanger away 
from the streets of Tunis. However, we agreed to meet 
on the Montezuma, Captain Cuneo d’ Ornano having re- 
quested us to return by water, and invited us to dine aboard 
of his vessel. 

Amid the ruins of Carthage rises a monument which 
resembles an Arab marabout. It is the tomb of St. 
Louis. Doubtless the form of a marabout was given to it 
intentionally. The Arabs, if they perceived no difference 
in the appearance of the tomb of a French saint and that 
of a Mussulman saint, would naturally respect one as much 
as the other. The result has not disappointed the foresight 
of the architect. At the present day St. Louis is almost 
as much venerated in the regency of Tunis as is Sidi 
Fathallah, or Sidi Abd el Kader. 

Let me say a word of the holy death which crowned the 
great life of St. Louis. 

I described, in the account of our journey to Sinai, the 
crusade into Egypt, in which Louis the Ninth found a defeat 
more glorious than a victory. On leaving the Holy Land, 
he vowed not to land in France, except for a halt. The halt 
was long; it lasted from 1255 to 1270. Louis the Ninth 
210 


CARTHAGE — THE TOMB OF ST. LOUIS. 211 

had to establish order in his kingdom. He was sick, 
suffering, feeble. He could wear neither buckler nor 
cuirass ; he had scarcely enough strength left to raise his 
sword. But although his strength was insufficient for a 
conqueror, it was more than sufficient for a martyr. 

He, before departing, executed his will. He bequeathed 
to Agnes, the youngest of his daughters, ten thousand francs 
for her dowry. As for his three sons, he took them with 
him. Five or six kings accompanied him, the greatest 
nobles in the world marched in his train — Charles of Sicily, 
Edward of England, the Kings of Navarre and Arragon. 
Wives quitted the* distaff and followed their husbands 
beyond sea — ^the Countess of Brittany, lolande of Bur- 
gundy, Jeanne of Toulouse, Isabelle of France, Amélie of 
Courtenay. 

• He left ten thousand francs to his daughter Agnes, and 
four thousand to his wife. Queen Marguerite ; and that 
sweet, good queen, full of noble simplicity, as Robert de 
Sinceriaux describes her, was perfectly satisfied. 

Louis the Ninth embarked at Aigues Mortes, on Tuesday, 
the 1st of July, 1270; and arrived in sight of Tunis to-ward 
the end of the same month. 

A Moorish prince was rebuilding Carthage. It was at 
the period when Moorish architecture was spreading its 
marvels over Spain. Several houses already arose amid 
the ruins of Carthage. A castle recently finished crowned 
the hill of Byrsa. 

Louis the Ninth disembarked, despite the menace made by 
the Mussulman prince, that he would slaughter all the Chris- 
tians in his territory. The Christian warriors had not come 
so far to give way before a menace. They wffio had come 
to seek martyrdom, could not recoil from the martyrdom 
of others. 

The first attack was directed against Carthage, poor city 


212 


TALES OF ALGtERIA. 


scarcely restored to life, a corpse emerging from the tomb 
and forced to return. The city was taken, the castle 
’«termed. The Crusaders took position on the heights, 
whence they could see Tunis, the sea, and in the distance, 
the site of Utica. 

Tunis was fortified. Tunis had a warlike population of 
a hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. Tunis could not 
be attacked until the King of France had assembled all his 
forces. It was necessary to await the King of Sicily. The 
Crusaders entrenched themselves on the isthmus, and 
awaited his arrival. 

The season was the beginning of August. A blazing 
sky hung over the burning earth. The scattered stones 
cropping out of the ground as if they had been bones of a 
half-buried city, reflected the rays of the sun. The sea 
was like molten lead. 

The Moors invented strange 'warlike machines. Instead 
of launching bolts and stones, they cast clouds of sand 
before the wind that came from the Desert. The wind 
whirled the burning atoms toward the camp of the Crusa- 
ders. It rained fire. Thereupon, a contagious disease 
broke out in the army: men died by hundreds. The 
Crusaders began to bury the dead ; but soon their arms grew 
weary, and then they were obliged to content themselves 
with throwing the corpses into the trenches of the camp. 

Death was impartial. The Counts de Montmorency, de 
Nemours, and de Vendôme, were attacked by the plague, 
and they died. The King’s dearly beloved child, the Duke 
de Nevers, sickened and fell dying in his father’s arms. 
When he died, the father felt that he himself was stricken 
by the fell destroyer. To be aware of an attack was to 
bb warned to prepare for death. The scourge was pitiless. 
Louis did not delude himself. He retired, certain of never 
rising, so he lay down on a bed of ashes. 


CARTHAGE — THE TOMB OF ST. LOUIS. 213 

It was the morning of the 25th of August. Louis was 
stretched on the earth, his arms crossed on his breast, his 
eyes raised to heaven. The dying, less near to death than' 
their King, had dragged themselves up to him, and formed 
a circle around him. Around this first circle, the soldiers 
who were well stood armed. In the distance, on the azure 
mirror of the sea, one could see appearing some specks, like 
a flock of gulls. They were the sails of the fleet of the 
King of Sicily. 

The viaticum was brought. The King raised himself on 
his knees to receive the Saviour to whom his soul was speed- 
ing. Then the King, with his eyes half closed, lay down, 
and remained motionless, praying in a low tone of voice. 
Suddenly he raised himself alone, 'heaved a deep sigh, and 
pronounced these words distinctly: “ O Lord, I shall enter 
into thy Mansions, and adore thee in thy Holy Temple.’^ 
Then falling backward, he expired. This happened at 
three o’clock in the afternoon. 

The Sicilian fleet was sufficiently near for those on shore 
to hear the joyous fanfares which heralded its arrival. 
When Charles landed, his brother had been dead for two 
hours. He claimed the viscera of the sainted King, and 
obtained them. They are at the monastery of Montréal, 
near Palermo. The heart and the bones were carried to 
France. 

During five hundred and sixty years, nothing indicated 
to the pious regard of the French pilgrim the place where 
the sainted Louis had died, not even a cross. That hostile 
and infidel land of Africa seemed to refuse to preserve a 
trace of the great event. But, about 1829, negotiations 
were commenced, by order of Charles the Tenth, between 
the Consulate of France and Bey Hussein. France requested 
to be allowed to raise an altar in the place where a tomb 
had been so long wanting. The authorization had just been 


214 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


granted by tbe Bey, when tbe revolution of 1830 oc- 
curred. 

Louis Philippe came to the throne. He also descended 
from St. Louis. He profited by circumstances, and sent 
an architect with orders to search for the place where the 
sainted Kino; had drawn his last breath, and to erect a tomb 
on the site. But it was useless for Monsieur Jourdain — • 
that was the name of the architect charged with this sacred 
mission — to attempt to gather anything positive in the nar- 
ratives of historians and in the floating traditions of ages. 
He and Jules de Lesseps contented themselves with choos- 
ing- the spot which was most beautiful, most prominent, the 
spot where they themselves would have wished to die, had 
they been in the place of the sainted King; and it was on 
the spot chosen by them that the tomb was raised. 

It is placed on a hill which one mounts in stumbling 
over the rubbish of intermingled marble and mosaic. Per- 
haps chance favored them, and these débris are those of 
the castle, near the gates of wLich St. Louis must have 
died. At all events, nothing can be more admirable than 
the view that unfolds itself to the pilgrim who seats him- 
self pensively where St. Louis laid him dowm dying. To- 
ward the north, lies the sea resplendent beneath the rays 
of the sun ; toward the east, the Lead Mountains, dark and 
gloomy as their name imports; toward the south, Tunis, 
white as a city carved from a quarry of chalk ; toward the 
west, a plain studded with hillocks, on the summits of 
which show in relief marabouts and Arab villages. Then 
there is an echo which repeats the names of Dido, Æneas, 
larbas, Mago, Hamilcar, Hannibal, Scipio, Sylla, Marius, 
Cato of Utica, Cæsar, Genseric, St. Louis. 

We entered the precincts devoted to the monument. The 
form of the tomb, as I have already said, is like that of the 
Arab marabouts. The walls of the enclosure are covered 


CARTHAGE — THE TOMB OF ST. LOUIS. 


215 


and encrusted with debris — fragments of vases, fragments of 
columns, fragments of statues. Among all these is a torso 
of a beautifully executed statue, and in a tolerable state of 
preservation. The interior of the tomb is sculptured in the 
Arabic manner. The designs are to the Alhambra of 
Granada and the Alcazar of Seville, what the style of 
Louis the Fifteenth is to the style of the Eenaissance. I 
inquired of the guardian — an old French soldier — ^who ex- 
ecuted the sculpture. He answered that it was executed 
by a Tunisian artist named Younis. 

There is little to see in the monument, much, perhaps, to 
reflect. But one cannot reflect well in company with five 
or six persons. How, as I write these lines in my study, 
amid the noise of the street, between my recollections of 
yesterday and the events of to-day, I would give much to 
be able to muse for two hours, alone and tranquil, at the 
door of the tomb of St. Louis. 

We descended to the shore. One amid those ruins might 
naturally think that animal life was almost extinct. There 
was not a lark in the fields, not a gull on the shore of the 
sea. Something there is not only barren, but accursed, in 
a buried city, with its remains protruding through the 
ground. At intervals, agriculture contended with all these 
crumbling débris, for the possession of a narrow strip of 
vegetable mould. On this strip were two little and lean 
oxen yoked to a plough of antique form, and goaded by a 
half-naked Arab. On the edge of the shore were white 
marble and red marble columns rolling like fragile reeds in 
the combing surf. Here and there, on the surface of the 
water, appeared a dark island of ancient formation, which 
the sea frets away with its long and patient murmur of 
eternity. To conclude, all this desolate landscape is com- 
manded by the little Moorish village of Sidi Bou Saïd. 

Oh! I declare, I then felt deep regret that our two 


216 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


artists had stayed in Tunis. How Giraud, with his quick 
eye, would have sketched this marvellous scene ! how Bou- 
langer, with his profound and melancholy soul, would have 
identified himself with this grand desolation! I made a 
détour to be alone, and went to lie down on the shore of the 
sea ; — that sea which for a thousand years has rolled columns 
of jasper and porphyry, as if seaweed torn from the rocks ; — 
on the shore of that sea which for a thousand years to 
come will perhaps continue to roll them. It seemed to me 
that, amid this moving i^ood, I heard the plaintive voice of 
past ages. What living city can boast of being peopled as 
thy ruins, O Carthage! What voice, powerful though it 
be, can boast of discoursing so loudly as thy silence ! 

Long had I remained thus engaged in bringing together 
the two shores of the Mediterranean, in confounding in the 
same dream Africa and Europe, in evoking Paris, its din, 
its balls, its theatres, its civilization, in fancying to myself 
what my friends at home were doing ! — when I heard myself 
called by Alexandre. As a man half-asleep, who feels 
that his dream is escaping him as he awakes, I did not at 
first answer. I was like him who having found a treasure 
loads himself with all the gold that he can carry. I 
was storing my heart with pain, and my memory with 
recollections. 

Two guns were fired about twenty paces from me, at the 
same time that my name resounded from every quarter. 
This time it Avas impossible not to answer the call. My 
friends Avere beginning to be uneasy about me. I arose, 
shouting in my turn, and Avaving my handkerchief 

At the end of a jetty situated at about a quarter of a 
league from us, a boat was making signals. It Avas the 
yaAvl of the commander of the Montezuma, coming to take 
us. We Avere AA^aited for to dine aboard. We followed the 
course of an ancient ruinous quay, and then we made the 


CARTHAGE — THE TOMB OF ST. LOUIS. 217 

tour of two great excavations, at the bottom of which three 
or four snipe dabbled in a little mud among some sparse 
reeds. These two excavations were, according to the 
savans, the port of ancient Carthage, which had an en- 
trance of sixty feet in width, and was secured with iron 
chains. The first was the port for merchantmen; the 
second, that of the Arsenal. 

19 


K 


THE BALL AT THE CONSULATE. 


D uring the rambles of my companions, and during my 
revery on the sea-shore, the wind had risen, and the 
sea had become white-capped; the consequence of which 
was to present a twofold danger — if we went by sailing, of 
capsizing, and if by oars, of not reaching our destination 
until the next day. Now sailors are slaves to orders, and 
as ours had been told to bring us back by one o’clock, and 
it was half-past twelve, and we had just enough time left 
to reach the Montezuma by sailing, they hoisted sail. If 
we upset, that was none of their business. 

The little bark at once assumed a careening posture that 
was well calculated to make us feel uneasy. The starboard 
gunwale was on a level with the water, while the port gun- 
wale was five feet in the air. Of course all hands were 
not seated, but were leaning against the port-side. But the 
wind outweighed all hands. The foam flew before us, and 
covered us with diamond spray. From time to time we 
shipped a sea which seemed inclined to take possession of 
the yawl. We laughed and joked, but all the while that we 
laughed and joked we measured the distance that separated 
us from shore. We talked of Leander’s swimming the 
Hellespont, of Lord Byron’s swimming Lake Geneva, 
and we asked if there were many sharks in the waters of 
Tunis. 

After three-quarters of an hour’s sail, we came alongside 
of the Montezuma. On board, they had seen us at a dis- 
218 


THE BALL AT THE CONSULATE. 


219 


tance, and had been admiring our keeled-over appearance. 
They were waiting for us on deck. 

Scarcely were we in the waters of the frigate, when we 
were becalmed. The Montezuma protected us as if she had 
been a mountain. It was very humiliating for the Veloce, 
and consequently, for me. Compared with the Montezuma, 
the Veloce was like a ship’s launch. There was, in truth, 
a difference of one hundred and eighty horse-power between 
the two ships. 

Monsieur Cunéo d’ Ornano received us with the gracious 
hospitality of the sailor. We found on board of his vessel 
Monsieur and Madame Rousseau, Monsieur and Madame 
Cotelle, Monsieur and Madame de Sainte Marie. 

Madame Rousseau and Madame Cotelle were, as the 
reader may remember, our two countrywomen of whom we 
had caught a glimpse at the Consulate, and with whom the 
commander of the Montezuma was graciously pleased to 
make us better acquainted. 

Madame de Sainte Marie is a charming Parisian, exiled 
in the land of Dido, in consequence of the mission entrusted 
to her husband by the French Government, hlonsieur de 
Sainte Marie is a captain of Engineers, charged with mak- 
ing a map of the Regency. He has lived in Tunis for six 
or eight years. 

The Turks do not much like these scientific peregrina- 
tions in their territory. They never believe that it is from 
the mere desire of making a step in advance in science, 
that a government instructs a man to trace on paper, with 
the aid of unknown instruments, figures of which they can 
understand nothing. Still, their respect, I will say more, 
their affection for the French, is such in this portion of 
Africa, that the reigning Bey gave full authority to IMon- 
sieur de Sainte Marie to make his surveys. He even, for 
greater safety, gave him as an escort a Mameluke, the 


220 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


bearer of an amra. With tbe Mameluke, and, above all, 
with his invincible will, with his unheard-of courage. Mon- 
sieur de Sainte Marie makes wonderful journeys. Every 
now and then he disappears with his Arab, no one hears of 
him for five or six months, then, at the expiration of that 
time, he some fine day or night knocks at his own door. 
He has returned from Jebel Auctar or from Jebel 
Korra. 

He has discovered unknown lakes and mountains, and 
tribes of which not even the Bey of Tunis himself knows 
the names. His wife sometimes asks him whether he has 
run much danger. Sainte Marie shrugs his shoulders. 
The fact is that for this man, danger has become the 
very breath of his nostrils, and no longer exists. .It 
is from his Mameluke that people learn about the en- 
counters that he has sustained, the hunting that he has 
done, the wounds that he has received. He never says a 
word about them. He stays two or three months in Tunis, 
then some fine day he disappears again, not to return for 
six or eight months. We fortunately arrived at Tunis 
between two of his eclipses. 

The breakfast was excellent. Sea-sickness had done its 
work well. Laporte and Maquet looked on at the rest. It 
is true that in the case of those whom the ramble had 
famished, and whose appetites the wind had sharpened, 
the ‘meal was a pretty interesting spectacle. - 

After breakfast, the Captain, not knowing what amuse- 
ment to offer the ladies, proposed that they should fire the 
cannon in honor of the ladies of Paris. We descended to 
the battery of thirty-six pounders. The guns were loaded, 
and the ladies fired with a more than masculine courage. 
Fire! you will exclaim— Yes, fire ; with their white and 
delicate hands ; fire like practised gunners ; without turn- 
ing their heads, or stopping their ears. O lovely Parisians 


THE BALL AT THE CONSULATÊ. 221 

who give charming little screams of fright when on the 
stage an actor draws a pocket-pistol from his fob, come to 
Tunis, and at the end of six months, you shall fire cannon, 
and such cannon, thirty-six pounders, nothing less. 

However amusing the exercise might he, it, like every 
other amusement on earth, had to come to an end. About 
six o’clock w^e took leave of the commander of the -Monte- 
zuma, got into our boat, and rowed toward Tunis. 

The sea was still heavy, so we had some trouble in gain- 
ing the gut ; but when once in the passage, there was no 
longer question of Avind or wave. We rowed along, 
meanwhile fruitlessly sending balls at the huge birds which 
rose above these dead waters, silent as birds of ill-omen. 
With our French crew, with our French companions, with 
our French songs, we could have fancied ourselves upon 
the Lake d’Enghien, had we not had Tunis in the per- 
spective. / 

On landing at the mole we were received by pur usual* 
escort of cotton-capped Jews and hoAvling dogs. The JeAVS 
had designs on my purse, and the dogs, upon my flesh, tAvo 
things which I had thoroughly made up my mind to dis- 
pute with them. 

W^e reached the Consulate unmolested, but it was at the 
Consulate that the chief danger aAvaited us. The court-yard 
of the Consulate was changed into a bazaar. The news 
of our purchases of the preceding day had spread abroad. 
JeAvellers, dealers in sashes, dealers in stuffs, dealers in 
mirrors, dealers in guns, poniards, and pistols, Avere AA’atch- 
ing for our return, Avith tbeir merchandise displayed. 
Scarcely did Ave appear at the door, Avhen the Avhole flock 
swooped upon us. Without our two Janissaries Ave should 
have been torn to pieces. We shouted at the top of our 
voices that the Consulate Avas asylum. Laporte came to 
our assistance. It was agreed AAuth the dealers that they 


222 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


should give us a respite until the next morning, that the 
evening should belong to us, but that, the next day, we 
should be at the disposal of the Tunisian manufacturers. 
Every one left his package where it was, under the safe- 
guard of French honor. 

It was eight o’clock. The ball was to open at nine. 
Laporte had just time enough to light his drawing-rooms, 
and we had just enough to dress ourselves. At nine o’clock 
a French orchestra was playing quadrilles and polkas. 
Thirty or forty female dancers, in dresses of gauze and in 
dresses of satin, balanced partners with thirty or forty 
male dancers in black coats and pantaloons. Five or six 
Turks, in their long, grave, and splendid costumes, sitting 
cross-legged and motionless in a corner, looked like a 
party of masqueraders that had strayed into a Parisian 
entertainment. 

There were some little accessories which kept in mind 
that w^e were still in Tunis — for example, a delft-ware tiled 
floor, with which Alexandre, while dancing a polka, made 
the most intimate acquaintance possible. There was also 
an Arab improvisator who related stories, as Levassor, at 
the Jardin d’ Hiver, recites his verses. There was also, in 
a corner, the admirable face of the sheik Medina, who sat 
cross-legged, whilst two sons, as large and strong as Geor- 
gians, stood up near him, exhibiting the respect that the 
children have for their fathers ; which forbids them, at any 
age whatever, to seat themselves in the presence of the 
father. There was also the coflee, the fragrant smoke from 
the chibouques and the yucas, there were the sherbets and ices 
made in the Oriental fashion. All these things added 
keener relish to the soirée. All this is without reckoning 
the story of Prince Charming. 

I am sure that you do -not know the story of Prince 
Charming, which our Arab improvisator related to me, 


THE BALL AT THE CONSULATE. 223 

while my companions vied with each other in dancing the 
polka. I will tell it, but I fear that I shall he far from 
telling it as well as it was told by Hassan ben Mahmoud 
Djelouli, and translated to me word for word by Rouman, 
as the story proceeded. 

“ There was one day born at Tunis a prince so ugly, so 
ugly, so ugly, that, at the sight of his hideousness, every- 
body, with one accord, called him Bou Ezzin, which means 
Prince Charming. 

“ By a well-understood precaution, in order that the poor 
Prince, deceived by his name, should never be able to form 
any opinion as to his appearance, the reigning Bey for- 
bade any one whomsoever, on pain of death, to place a 
mirror in the hands of the Prince, his son, or ever to allow 
one to be within reach. So the Prince, joyous and self- 
satisfied, reached twenty years of age, thinking himself the 
handsomest one of the young people in the Regency ; and 
the courtiers took great pains not to undeceive him. 

“ Unfortunately, the reigning Bey died, leaving the Bey- 
lic to his son; and unfortunately, too. Prince Charming — 
as he adored his father — wished, in token of mourning, to 
be shaved at the same time that he allowed his hair to grow. 
He therefore ordered a barber to be brought. He who 
came was a ^oor devil lately arrived from Susa. He was 
ignorant of the famous decree of the defunct Bey in rela- 
tion to mirrors. The first thing, therefore, that he did, was 
to provide himself with a mirror, and the second, to place 
it in the hands of Prince Charming. Every one was so far 
from expecting the infraction of a law respected for twenty 
years, that the Bashaw Mameluke, the Prime Minister, had 
not time to pounce upon the mirror, and snatch it from the 
unhappy barber. The result was, as I have said, that it 
was delivered to Prince Charming. 

Prince Charming raised the mirror toward his face, and 


224 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


uttered a cry which Avas heard from the palace to the gates 
of Tunis. Then he began to weep bitterly, and to tear out 
his beard. He did not attempt to deceive himself, he 
thought himself hideous. 

‘‘ As a matter of course, at the very instant when he saw 
himself, and acquired the conviction that they were really 
his features which the mirror had reflected, he dashed it to 
the ground, and broke it into a thousand pieces. 

“ The Bashaw ' Mameluke seeing the Prince weep, also 
wept ; seeing the Prince tear out his beard, he tore out his 
own beard. 

“ The Prince, who, after having wept all the morning, 
and, Avhile weeping, torn out his beard, but who, at bottom, 
was a sensible youth, made this reflection : That tears do 
not beautify, and that, if his beard were plucked out, the 
imperfections of his face would be more revealed. Toward 
evening, therefore, he ceased weeping, and having ceased 
Aveepiug, he ceased tearing out his beard. The next day 
he was still very sad, but, nevertheless, as he was a philo- 
sophical prince, he only sighed : it is true that he sighed 
very piteously. 

“But, as for the Bashaw Mameluke, whose grief the 
Prince had noticed, and after Avhom he had inquired, to 
thank him for the sympathy which he had shown, it was a 
very different matter. Far from being like the Prince, in 
the way of consolation, he Avept harder than on the pre- 
vious evening, and he had torn out a third of his beard. 
The young Prince attempted to console him ; but the more 
the Prince endeavored, the more the Bashaw Mameluke 
Avept : his eyes Avere two veritable brooks. Prince Charm- 
ing dismissed him, conjuring him to summon all his rea- 
son to his aid. The next day the Prince sent for him. The 
Prince Avas almost resigned, and he fondly hoped that his 
Prime Minister’s frame of ,mind Avould be like his OAvn. 



Prince Charming uttered a cry which was heard from the palace to the 
gates of Tunis. 





Page 224. 



THE BALL AT THE CONSULATE. 


225 


He was mistaken. Grief had made some progress with the 
Bashaw Mameluke, and he was disconsolate. He had torn 
out two-thirds of his beard, and his eyes were two veritable 
rivers. However devoted his Prime Minister might be, 
Prince Charming could not comprehend such grief. He 
dismissed the Bashaw Mameluke, embracing him, but the 
Bashaw Mameluke wept only the harder. 

“ The next day, the Prince was entirely comforted, and 
hoped that it would be the same with the Bashaw Mameluke, 
so he sent for him. It was still worse than on the preceding 
evening. The affliction of the Prime Minister was despair. 
He had torn out his whole beard, and his eyes were two 
veritable cataracts. 

“ ‘ Why,’ said the Prince to him, ‘how happens it. Bashaw 
Mameluke, that I, whom this misfortune most concerns, 
— that I wept but one day, and by evening all was 
over ?’ 

“ ‘ Oh, Prince !’ cried the Bashaw Mameluke, ‘ if, on ac- 
count of seeing yourself for an instant, you wept for a day, 
how long should I not weep ! — I who have seen you ever 
since your birth, and expect to see you until my dying 
day!”’ 

What do you think of the story of Prince Charming. Is 
it not one of the very drollest ? 

I will conclude this chapter by giving two of Alex- 
andre’s witticisms, which circulated in the balhroom, and 
were considered quite good. I have mentioned the mis- 
fortune which happened to Alexandre while dancing the 
polka. That accident made him a little cross. Now it is 
especially when Alexandre is cross that he is witty. 

In every place in the world, even in Tunis, there are women 
who serve as wall-flowers while the rest dance. Two sisters, 
the wives of two Tunisian merchants, models of the Turk- 
ish style of beauty, one weighing perhaps two hundred 


226 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


pounds, the other, perhaps one hundred and fifty pounds, 
had remained three contra-dances without a partner. La- 
porte, who was desirous that every one should be amused, 
went to find Alexandre, and begged him to ask one of the 
sisters to dance, while he himself asked the other. Alexan- 
dre grumblingly consented. “Which one will you ask?’^ 
inquired Laporte. 

“ The one there is the least of,” replied Alexandre. 

After the contra-dance, Kousseau showed him a charm- 
ing young lady who, amid the universal gayety, preserved 
a certain melancholy expression, which became her ad- 
mirably. 

“Well?” inquired Alexandre. 

“ Well ! — you see that young girl ?” said Rousseau. 

“Yes.” 

“ Is’nt she pretty, though ?” 

“ Is’nt she pretty ! I see her,” replied Alexandre. 

“ Is’nt she stylish ?” 

“ Is’nt she stylish ! — ^what then ?” 

“ Well ! her father is in the galleys.” 

“Ah !” cried Alexandre, “ why was he not invited to the 
ball ? he would not have come, and politeness would have 
been satisfied !” 

They would have been all the more able to invite the 
honest man, inasmuch as there was nothing infamous in 
his case, for he was expiating in the galleys of his High- 
ness an old balance due for conspiracy. 

On the following day, at four o’clock, a grand dinner was 
given to us by the twelve Consuls of the twelve Powers 
which have representatives at Tunis, and by all the 
European merchants. The only Consul whose presence we 
did not enjoy, was Sir Thomas Ride, the English Consul, 
one of the jailers of Napoleon at Saint Helena. I know 
not whether it is he who does not see his colleagues or 


THE BALL AT THE CONSULATE. 


227 


whether it is his colleagues who do not see him. On second 
thoughts, I decidedly think that it is his colleagues who do 
not see him. 

In the evening of the same day there was a grand hall 
in our honor, at the Consulate of Sardinia. 


MY ARTIST, HADJ’ YOUNIS. 


I N visiting the bazaar, we had forgotten to visit the gold- 
.dust shop. We repaired this forgetfulness. 

Gold-dust, which is the principal medium of exchange 
with the tribes in the interior of Africa, is gathered to the 
southward of Tuggurt. The dealer of whom we made 
inquiries had in person several times made the precious 
harvest. 

This dust, which is collected in the desert, is invisible by 
day, the grains, so long as the sun shines, not looking 
different from those of common sand, but, by night, the 
places where it is appear phosphorescent. Unfortunately, 
with darkness, issue from their holes horned vipers and 
black scorpions, reptiles and insects whose bite or sting is 
mortal ; and in so great numbers, too, the dealer told me in 
his figurative language, that the sand is ridged on their 
course, as if fishermen had cast their nets in the desert. 

However, the hunters of gold-dust have discovered 
means of braving the horned vipers and the scorpions. By 
night, they scour the desert on camels carrying leathern 
boots and sacks of powdered charcoal. The leathern boots 
used by the hunters turn the viper’s teeth and the scor- 
pion’s sting, and the powdered charcoal, sprinkled on the 
shining spots, indicates, by the next day’s light, the mine 
that is to be worked. 

May not these vipers and scorpions be the monsters 
which defended the approaches to the treasures of old ? 

228 


MY ARTIST, HADJ’ YOUNIS. 


229 


We cheapened a lion-skin, but it was held at an exor- 
bitant price. We thought for a moment that we had 
chanced to come across the hunter himself ; but the owner 
of the skin was not the first one. The lion had been killed 
in the Kaf Mountains, which divide the Kegency of Tunis 
from the Province of Constantina. 

This topographic information recalled to me Gérard our 
lion-killer. I asked the Arab whether he knew him. He 
did, in truth, know him under the same title that we did. 
But, when I remarked to him that Gérard had already 
killed ten lions, he, with the exaggeration which is the 
poesy of the Arab, smiled and made a movement with his 
head, saying, “Ten, twenty, a hundred, five hundred, a 
thousand.” 

“ Oh ! oh !” said I, “ that is a good many.” 

The Arab made another gesture. “A thousand!” re- 
peated he. “And now when Gérard meets a lioness he, 
disdaining to kill her, gives her a kick, saying, ‘ Go find 
your husband.’ ” 

Apropos of Guelma and Constantina, and, above all, 
apropos of Gérard, I shall return to the stories about 
lions. The Arabs told me some excellent ones. Mean- 
time, let me here record a characteristic fact. In the Arab 
tongue there is but one word for lord and for lion — Cid. 
So, when the Arabs call Don Kodrigo, Cid, they speak of 
him not only as a lord, but as a lion. 

On leaving the bazaar, w^e went to visit the city palace 
of the Bey. The most recent association with this pile was 
that connected with the suite of apartments which had 
been occupied by Monsieur, the Duke de Montpensier. 
This association was very strong. The gracious politeness 
of the Prince during his sojourn, and his generosity on his 
departure, had made him a good many friends among the 
residents of the palace. 

20 


230 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


In other respects, there was nothing about the palace to 
attract attention, if it were not those identical modern 
sculptures which I had already noticed in the tomb of St. 
Louis ; which, as I have said, were executed by the pilgrim 
Younis— Hadj’ Younis. On our return to the Consulate, 
I, inspired by the desire which I entertained, to have an 
Arab chamber made in Paris, inquired w’here the artist 
Younis resided. The address given, Paul was instructed to 
bring to me the person with whom I wished to speak. An 
hour afterward he was at the Consulate. A boy of twelve 
years of age accompanied him ; a wonderfully beautiful 
boy whom, by the way, any one may have seen at Saint 
Germain during the year that he stayed there. He was 
called Ahmed, a contraction for Mohammed. 

As for Younis himself, he was a man between forty and 
forty-four years of age, of perfectly regular features, with 
handsome black eyes, and a straight nose, and with a beard 
whitening at the extremity. He was dressed with a sort 
of elegance. 

I asked him whether he had any dislike to travelling. 
He answered me that he was quite used to it, having been 
to Mecca. I then proposed to him that he should accom- 
pany me to France. He pointed significantly to his son. 
I made him a sign in the affirmative. 

“ I should then like very well to go to France,” said he. 

“ Then you have confidence in me ?” inquired I. 

He looked at me fixedly, and said, “Yes.” 

“ How much do you charge?” I asked. 

He considered for a moment, and replied, 

“Shall I enjoy your hospitality?” 

“You shall.” 

“ Shall I live according to my own mode of living ?” 

“You shall do your own cooking, and you shall arrange 
your chamber to suit yourself.” 


MY ARTIST, HADJ’ YOUNIS. 


231 


‘‘Very well. Before my departure, you will give, on 
account, for my work, four hundred piastres to my 
wifeT 

“I will.” 

“ To me, you will give four piastres a day ?” 

“ What next ?” 

“ That is all.” 

“No, it is not enough. I will give you double the 
amount.” 

He looked at me, and then at the Consul. Monsieur 
Laporte understood what was passing in his mind, and said, 
“ He will give it to you.” 

“You are then a lord?” inquired Hadj’ Younis. 

“ No,” said I, “ but I am a man who appreciates talent, 
and recompenses it as much as lies in his power.” 

I saw that the artist had a final observation to make. 
“ But the voyage ?” said he. 

“ That will be at my expense,” I replied. 

“ Then,” said he, finally, “ I am at your disposal, saving 
the permission of my lord, the Bey.” 

“Ah, the deuce!” exclaimed Laporte; “I forgot all 
about that.” 

Obtaining the permission was in fact the most difficult 
part of the arrangement. Not only does the Bey dislike 
his subjects to travel, for fear that the taste for emigration 
may seize them, but, in addition, Younis was, at the very 
time that I inveigled him, occupied in sculpturing the 
tomb of the Bey du Camp. That necessitated a nego- 
tiation. Horses were put to the cabriolet, and Laporte, and 
I departed for Bardo. 

We reached the presence of the Bey with greater facility 
than one can in France obtain audience of a Chief of a 
Di^vision, or a Minister of the Interior. He received me 
charmingly, and inquired whether I brought him another 


232 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


piece of good news. Laporte answered that I did not, but 
that I had a favor to request of him. 

“ Then it is good news for me,” said the Bey. 

Laporte made known to him my desire. The Bey^s face 
darkened slightly. 

“ But,” said he to Laporte, “ does your friend, the savant, 
know that Younis is working for me?” 

Laporte transmitted the question to me. 

“Yes, your Highness,” I replied, “hut if you will allow 
me, I hope to he ahle to explain the matter satisfactorily. 
You are employing him to make your tomh, hut I wish 
to employ him to make a chamber. My chamber is for 
the purpose of being inhabited during my life ; your tomb 
is merely for that of being occupied after your death. 
Naturally, you are the one who is in less haste, therefore it 
is for you to yield to me your turn.” 

The reply seemed to the Bey full of logic. 

“I give you Hadj’ Younis,” said he; “take good care 
of him, and send him back to me as soon as possible.” 

I thanked the Bey with an enthusiasm much more sin- 
cere than when he had promised me the Order of Nisham. 
The passport of Younis was sent to us, and we returned to 
the Consulate. 

Younis, at sight of the passport, was almost as delighted 
as I was. It was evident that, if I had the desire to take 
him to France, he had a greater desire to go there. As we 
were to sail on the day after the next, I gave him his four 
hundred piastres, and bade him hold himself m readiness 
to go with me. What made him take his departure so 
easily, was that Paul, the Arab from Darfur, talking with 
him in the old Arab tongue, had told him, that he would 
be better off at my house than at his own. The promise 
which I made to him I kept scrupulously. After four 


MY ARTIST, HADJ YOUNIS. 


233 


months^ sojourn in France, Hadj’ Younis, in his own and 
in his son’s name, wrote to his wife; and to depict the 
abundance and the satisfaction in which he was living, he 
had found only this one phrase that could convey his idea, 
Anni farchan hitter '^ — We are in clover. 


THE DEPARTURE. 


FTER a stay of six days, which passed like an hour, 



A we left Tunis. Tunis was the extreme point of our 
voyage. I shall now add a few pages, in which I intend to 
collect whatever curious details may have escaped notice in 
the preceding chapters. 

Tunis possesses not only the tomb of St. Louis, hut 
also the School of St. Louis. This School, at the period 
when we happened to be in Tunis, was presided over by a 
warden ad interim, named Espinasse. The following are 
the circumstances under which the institution was founded. 

To the Chapel of St. Louis, of which I spoke in a 
preceding chapter, is attached a worthy ecclesiastic called 
the Abbé Bourgade, who realized that, in crossing the sea 
and exiling himself in Africa, his task did not limit itself 
to saying two or three masses a year on a site which was 
much more likely a pagan temple’s than the funeral couch 
of the holy King. Even with the founding of the Chapel 
of St. Louis, Christianity had secured but a slight foothold 
in Africa. The Abbé Bourgade resolved to instal it there 
so securely that it could never be expelled. First, he sent 
for fifteen Sisters of Charity, belonging to the Society of 
St. Joseph, founded in France by the Baroness de Vialar. 
These holy women founded at the same time an infant- 
school, a school for girls, and the Hospital of St. Louis. 
Then the Abbé dreamed of a Grammar-School for boys. 
It was not until 1832 that, with the aid merely of a thou- 


234 


THE DEPARTUKE. 


235 


sand francs, sent to him by the King of France, Monsieur, 
the Abbé Bourgade succeeded in establishing his Grammar- 
School, which at the present time numbers upward of two 
hundred scholars learning and speaking with equal facility 
French, Italian, and Arabic. Wednesdays and Saturdays 
are devoted to a course of chemistry, natural philosophy, 
and mechanical drawing. 

The King, seeing the progress made by this admirable 
institution, converted to an annual allowance the aid which 
he had at first granted as a first and final gift. But a thou- 
sand francs of income is a very small matter for an institu- 
tion which is lacking in the first principle of its founder, — 
in charity, — if it receives not gratuitously a portion of its 
pupils. Would it not, in all conscience, be much better to 
give the Théâtre Français, — ^which if well conducted can 
dispense with an allowance, — ^but three hundred and eighty 
thousand francs a year, and to send twenty thousand francs 
to the Grammar-School at Tunis ? 

We visited the school. Our visit put it all in commo- 
tion. Four or five pupils in disgrace were pardoned on our 
account. 

A great black-board was marked with some Arabic lines. 
These were sentences. Here they are. 

“ The word that escapes thee is thy master, that which 
thou retainest, thy slave.” 

“ Speech is silver ; silence, gold.” 

He who beats the dog, strikes the master.” 

“A tender heart is ever in mourning.” 

“ Patience is the key of joy ; haste, that of repentance.” 

“ Even were thy friend honey, lick him not all over.” 

Let me add to these maxims a last one, which, because 
it had not the advantage of being inscribed on the black- 
board of the Grammar-School, but on a mere wall, did not 
the less appear to possess merit. This is it. 


236 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“Marry not a widow, were her cheek like a bouquet. 
It will be in vain for thee to fulfil and more than fulfil all 
the duties which marriage imposes, thou shalt none the less 
hear her, heaving a sigh, say ceaselessly, ‘ May Heaven 
be merciful to my poor dead husband !’ ” 

We had deferred to the last moment the business of 
making our purchases. To tell the frightful temptations 
which beset me near those necklaces, those bracelets, those 
pins ; near those stuffs streamed with gold, those stuffs of 
silk, of gauze; near those carpets from Smyrna and Tripoli ; 
those tortoise-shell coffers, those mother-of-pearl tables , 
would be to renew a torture then too cruel. 

My two Arabs were waiting for me. They each had a 
little bundle containing a spare suit of clothes, and their 
tools wrapped in a cloak, as if the matter in hand had 
been to go merely as far as Goulette. On seeing me, they 
took my hands and kissed them, addressing me as Cid. It 
was a bargain ; they were at my disposal ; the rest did not 
concern them ; it was my duty to watch over them during 
the voyage ; it was my duty to shield them from dangers 
of which they were ignorant, but of which they surmised 
the existence ; it was my duty to return them at the ap- 
pointed time to their country and their home. 

They carried two fowls, as if they did not know where we 
were going, and whether in the country to which we were 
going there would be fiaod for the next day. Paul used all 
his eloquence to make them understand the uselessness of 
carrying the two fowls, but they would not listen to any- 
thing ; saying, that if the fowls were not used by them, they 
would do for me. 

The moment for saying farewell arrived. The sailors of 
the Veloce loaded a wagon with our baggage, which was 
increased at every stoppage by three or four chests. We 
could scarcely make up our minds to part from Laporte, 


THE DEPARTURE. 


237 


Cotelle, Rousseau ; our excellent friend the Sardinian Con- 
sul, who had given us a beautiful ball ; our delightful coun- 
trywomen, who had given us a fine dinner; Sainte Marie, 
too, who was about to depart again on one of those danger- 
ous journeys, which have become sport to him, but have 
remained a terror to all his friends. 

Fifty persons accompanied us to the shore, while from 
the top of the terrace the ladies waved their handkerchiefs. 
Night came on rapidly. There was no time to lose. The 
moon would not rise until midnight. We might lose our- 
selves in the lake. We gave each other a last embrace and 
leaped into the boat. 

So long as the least daylight lingered, our friends could 
be seen standing on the shore. By slow degrees, distance 
deepened the grayish veil that extended between us : ob- 
jects at last grew dim, blended, and disappeared. I fired 
two shots as a last farewell, and we no longer endeavored 
to discern anything. Night had come. 

After an hour’s rowing, we perceived that we were lost 
on the lake. In fact, nothing indicates the course except 
those piles just awash, which I have already mentioned ; 
which, by night, become almost useless, because one cannot 
^easily see them. At last, after another ' hour’s pulling 
around at a venture, we saw before us a black pool, and 
recognized the gut. Just at this moment. Monsieur Gas- 
pari, who had suspected what had occurred, appeared on 
the jetty with a torch. He had seen passing the boat 
which went to fetch us, and he was waiting for it to 
return. 

We had to land. A punch was ready for us, and around 
the flaming bowl were bottles of rosolio, maraschino, and 
two or three unknown liqueurs. Then I was obliged to ac- 
cept some of the product of Monsieur Gaspari’s explora- 
tions of ten years — medals, fragments of mosaics, remains 


238 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


of statuettes. There was still a chest to be added to the 
other chests. 

At last it occurred to us that we must be impatiently 
waited for on board of thV Véloce. We abruptly broke all 
- these hospitable bonds and departed. It was like leaving 
Tunis a second time. 

About ten o’clock we were on board. The Captain had 
had supper prepared. We sat down to table, and the ship 
got under way. At midnight, the moon rose splendidly. 
By its pale light we could glance over the beautiful lake, 
beyond which we could imagine rather than discern Tunis. 
We doubled Cape Carthage, and all disappeared. 




GALITA ISLAND. 


T he sea was smooth, the wind fair. During all the 
night we ran at the rate of seven knots an hour. In 
the morning we awoke within view of the little island of 
Galita. 

The island of Galita, like the island of Monte Cristo, to 
which it bears some resemblance, is inhabited by rabbits 
and goats. At this news, we had requested the Captain to 
stop there for some hours, and, as usual, he showed his 
readiness to gratify our wishes. 

Some time before our voyage, a rather strai^e occurrence 
had happened at the very place where we found ourselves. 
A Jewess of Tunis had married at Bona, and two years 
after her marriage had returned to Tunis. People sought 
for motives to account for her return, and the one generally 
adopted was, that the lightness of her conduct had so dis- 
pleased her husband, that a separation had taken place 
between them. Still, some months after her arrival at 
Tunis, her husband came there to rejoin her; and as people 
saw the married couple together, as they seemed to live in 
perfect harmony, the accusation which had been made 
against the wife fell of itself to the ground. More than 
this, the husband came to get his wife, not being able, so he 
said, to do without her. He had set up a new establishment 
in Algiers. The married couple embarked on a little Greek 
vessel to go and take charge of their new home. 

But this establishment at Algiers was a myth, this renewal 

239 


240 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


of love was feigned. The Jew’s project W'as nothing less 
than that of getting rid of his wife ; and in consideration 
of two thousand piastres which the Greek captain had 
received, the latter had agreed to aid him to the best of his 
ability. 

Chance favored the accomplices. A storm so tossed the 
little vessel, that the poor woman was violently attacked by 
sea-sickness and rendered incapable of defending herself. 
Besides, the poor woman, ignorant of what menaced her, 
had no idea of defending herself. Suddenly the husband 
and the Captain entered the cabin and gagged her. Then 
they brought a chest in which they nailed her, and threw 
her into the sea. 

It was night. No one saw the chest tossed int© the sea, 
or at least no one remarked it. The vessel, which was a fast 
sailer — it went seven knots — soon lost sight of the chest, 
which floated at the mercy of the waves. 

Three hours afterward, as day was commencing to appear, 
the steamer Sphynx, which had left Goulette five hours 
after the Greek vessel, and was running on the same course, 
sighted an object which at first was supposed to be a boat, 
then a bale, and finally a chest. The vessel stopped, and 
a boat was sent ofi* ; the sailors that manned it grappled 
the chest, and rowed toward the steamer. On their way, 
they thought that they heard moans coming from the chest, 
but as they had no tools with them, they contented them- 
selves with pulling hard, meanwhile addressing the strange 
package with questions to which it replied only by inarticu- 
late sounds. 

They placed the chest on deck, and sent for the car- 
penter. Hatchet and pry did their duty, the box was 
burst open, and revealed a woman naked and half- 
smothered. It was our Jewess. She told her story. 

The Sphynx also was going to Algiers. The Captain 


GALITA ISLAND. 


241 


ordered all steam put on. About mid-day he sighted the 
Greek vessel, and by evening he had overhauled and 
passed her. The Sphynx- reached Algiers twelve hours 
before the Greek vessel arrived. The Captain, therefore, 
had had ample time to make his deposition, and the 
woman her complaint before the authorities. On setting 
foot on the jetty the first person that the husband saw 
was his wife, and behind her, came a squad of gendarmes. 

As for the Greek captain, he did not judge it advisable 
to land. From his vessel he saw the arrest of the Jew, 
and he at once stood out to sea. 

The husband was. tried, condemned to death, and exe- 
cuted, to the delight of the Aloors and the Arabs, for 
whom it is always a great source of joy to see a Jew die a 
violent death. 

It was Younis who related all this interesting story to 
Paul, who translated it to me whilst we were casting anchor 
at rifle-range from the island. ^ 

We found seventeen fathoms of water on a bottom of 
stiff clay mixed with algæ. A little vessel lay sheltered 
among the rocks which dotted the approach to shore. She 
belonged to Goral-gatherers. We exchanged some words 
with them. They were Neapolitans. 

We ourselves lowered our boat, and we began to shoot 
divers, which were disporting along the beach, quite as- 
tonished at seeing their island receive so fine and numerous 
a party. 

We found some difficulty in landing on the island, 
which being but a mass of rocks, occasionally lets frag- 
ments as large as a house detach themselves, and these, 
bounding down its sides, split and reach the sea in the con- 
dition of much smaller rocks. There, as they find a depth 
of eight or ten feet of water, they remain half-submerged. 

It was by leaping from point to point of these rocks that 
21 L 


242 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


we succeeded in reaching the island. Once on terra firmaf 
we considered our trouble over, but the same difficulty as 
that which we had overcome still presented itself. AYe 
were on the borders of chaos, and were obliged to surmount 
a new pile of débris. We finally succeeded, and found our- 
selves on a rocky piece of ground, where, in the inter- 
stices of the rock, grew tall herbs, two feet in height, 
straight and sparse, and breaking with a sharp sound. I 
had advanced scarcely two hundred paces into these herbs, 
when two rabbits took me by surprise, by springing up at 
my feet. By good luck I killed, them both. 

At the double report, repeated by the echo, we saw on 
the right a herd of wild goats bound along, and gain the 
steepest summits of the island. Alexandre, Desbarolles, 
and our young surgeon started in pursuit. Maquet, 
Giraud, Chancel, and I, on the contrary, kept toward the 
left. Consequently, as the left-hand side was the level part 
of country, and the right-hand side the hilly part, we con- 
tented ourselves with a rabbit-hunt, while the other gentle- 
men had the ambition to hunt the wild-goat. 

I was not without uneasiness regarding the others. This 
excursion amongst rocks, moving like loos® teeth in the 
socket, and ever ready» to roll toward the sea, appeared to 
me dangerous. I made some observations, which I had, as 
I expected, the pain of seeing thrown away. The hunters 
disappeared in a depression of the ground. We continued 
our shooting. 

Those sailors who had obtained leave, accompanied us, 
making a circle in such a way that but few rabbits could 
escape from their battue. So we saw nothing but the 
rabbits’ white tails darting like lightning through the tall 
herbs. We killed twenty rabbits with our guns.* The 
sailors, on their part, killed two or three with stones. 
Chancel also brought down a woodcock. 


GALITA ISLAND. 


243 


AVe made a fusillade that sounded like a skirmish of 
sharp-shooters. From time to time, a report answered from 
the mountain. One of these reports caused me to turn 
around. I saw the smoke of powder, then something which 
I thought that I recognized as Desbarolles sliding rapidly 
down the slope of a rock. But he slid neither on his back, 
nor on his stomach, nor on his right side, nor on his left 
side, nor headlong, but on his seat. This was explained 
to us later. Desbarolles had missed his footing, and, to the 
detriment of his pantaloons and their lining, had passed 
over a space of many yards in the posture which seemed 
to him the least dangerous. 

Alexandre had been carried away in the swift career of 
his companion. I had seen a sort of dividers opening from 
rock to rock. It was he. He had been able to stop only 
at the expense of his gun, by thrusting the butt of it 
between two rocks. The butt was broken. To these two 
accidents the mishaps of the day -.were limited. 

Of course, the least said about the goats the better. 
Every one, however, had done wonders. But the most 
unaccountable thing was that, despite the unlimited num- 
ber of balls that the goats must have received, not a goat 
had succumbed. AVe therefore came to the conclusion that 
•the goats of Galita Island are invulnerable, or at least, 
like Achilles, could not be wounded except in the heel. 
Now the heel of a goat presents so little surface, that it was 
not astonishing that our huntsmen, however skilful they 
might be, had shot a little above, or below, or to one side. 
However, Alexandre gave us a proof of his skill, which 
made an appropriate pendant to his killing the lark at 
Bizerta. He threw a pebble into the air, and pulverized it 
with the ball remaining in his gun ; which confirmed us in 
the opinion that the goats were invulnerable. 

On the sea-shore we found our sailors reassembled. 


244 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


In hunting on their own account, by forming great circles 
which they contracted by gradually closing in on the game, 
the rabbits caught between them were well caught. Among 
the number of captives, living and dead, was a white rabbit, 
a variety of the species which his fellows seemed to regard 
with profound astonishment. 

In a sort of quarry, a sailor had discovered a delightful 
spring which filtered through the rocks and spread with 
icy coolness in a vast natural basin. This unknown naiad 
had already quenched the thirst of other travellers besides 
ourselves ; for a French crew, through the medium of its 
boatswain, had engraved their thanks on the overhanging 
rock. 

As nothing now detained us, we left Galita Island, and 
returned to the Véloce, which at midnight cast anchor in 
the port of Bona. 


BONA-ST. AUGUSTINE. 


rpHE first thing that attracted our attention on reaching 
deck was the fortress of Bona, the scene of the first and 
the boldest coups de main of Joussouf. 

The port of Bona is very little liked by mariners, who 
in stormy weather do not, unless they are obliged, come to 
anchor there. The anchorages that are preferred are those 
of Fort Génois, and the Carob-Trees. In fact, the port of 
Bona is but shallow water with poor holding-ground. The 
anchor, taking only in a layer of sand over rock, which 
in stormy weather is reached and moved by the waves, 
is easily dragged. 

Formerly Bona was wealthy. In 1810, for example, the 
population was as high as ten thousand inhabitants. In 
1830, when the French made the conquest of Algeria, it 
numbered no more than fifteen hundred inhabitants. In 
fact, the crops of the Crimea have ruined the business of 
exportation of grain from Africa. The inhabitants no 
longer ask of the earth that rich superfluity which is called 
commerce, but only that strict necessary which is called food. 

The report of our voyage had spread over all the coast. 
So, scarcely had we cast anchor, when we saw a boat leave 
the shore and row toward us. It was commanded by the 
French commissary, an old friend of mine, who came, so 
he said, to confiscate us for his benefit. We had nothing 
in the world to object to this friendly confiscation. We ac- 
21 ■*- 245 


246 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


companied liim to his house, where we found his wife and 
his daughter, who were waiting for us. 

Our walks in the city were short. The city does not con- 
tain anything very curious. We resolved to take a ride 
to Hippo. Our host undertook to provide the horses. Hip- 
po being situated about a league from Bona. As for me, 
having learned that I could reach there in hunting by the 
way, I threw my gun over my shoulder and, guided by a 
Polish colonel who had contended for me with my friend 
the commissary, and in whose possession I had definitively 
remained, I set out toward the tomb of St. Augustine, 
which was the general rendezvous. 

On leaving the city, one sets foot on a great marsh which 
extends on the left to the sea, and on the right, to the foot 
of the mountains. In front, the horizon is bounded by a 
little chain of hills, on the first slopes of which rises the 
holy tomb. We followed the right bank of the Seybouse, 
along which I killed some snipe and a wild duck. At last, 
after three-quarters-of-an-hour’s walk, we reached the tomb, 
where I found the whole party assembled. 

The tomb is built on the ruins of ancient Hippo — Hippo 
Begins. In fact it was the residence of the Numidian 
kings. But of these Numidian kings naught remains, not 
even the names. St. Augustine has covered everything with 
his pastoral mantle, and only his memory survives amidst 
the ruins of the great city. 

Born in Tagaste on the 13th of November, 354, educated 
in Madaura, he visited Carthage, whose dissolute man- 
ners revolted him ; for nothing is so far from love as de- 
bauchery. Attracted by the eloquence of St. Ambrose, 
he visited Milan, where his conversion took place; and 
finally visited Hippo, where the petiple, touched by his 
great piety, and his profound eloquence, forced him in some 
degree to receive holy orders from the hand of the worthy 


BONA — ST. AUGUSTINE. 


. 247 


bishop to whom he succeeded in 395. At last, on the 22d 
of August, 430, St. Augustine died during the third month 
of the siege of Hippo by the Vandals. He had implored 
God to recall him to himself before the capture of the city, 
and God granted his prayer. 

The Vandals destroyed the city, but they respected the 
libiary and the episcopal residence, the only property that 
St. Augustine had possessed, and which he had bequeathed 
to the Church. The Vandals constituted themselves the 
executors of the Saint. 

As for the Saint, his mortal remains w’dre contended for 
^by the different cities which had had the happiness of hear- 
ing his eloquence. Cagliari first possessed them, and then 
Pavia. At last, in 1842, the French Government claimed 
for the modern Hippo a part of the precious relics. The 
bone of the right fore-arm was yielded, placed on board of 
the Gassendi, transported to Hippo, and interred with great 
pomp in the place in which at the present time the monu- 
ment rises. 

By a singular chance, it was Captain Bérard, the captain 
of the \ eloce when we made our Mediterranean voyage, 
who at that period commanded the Gassendi. 

I shall say nothing about the monument. Was it money, 
or was it talent that was wanting in making it worthy 
of the Saint? I really wish to think that it was money. 
When one reaches the foot of the cenotaph, the best thing 
that he can do — as an artist, bear in mind — is to seat him- 
self, turning his back upon it, and contemplate the mag- 
nificent landscape that unfolds to the sight. In the fore- 
ground are the ruins of the ancient city, through whose 
rents the glance penetrates ; in the middle-ground, are the 
marshes intersected by the Seybouse; and in the back- 
ground, the city rises amphitheatrically ; on the left are the 
mountains, on the right is the sea. 


248 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


At this place was settled in grand council a question 
important for us to decide,— whether we should proceed 
directly from Bona to Constantina, by the way of Guelma, 
or whether, taking the usual route, we should go to Stora, 
from Stora to Philippeville, and from Philippeville to Con- 
stantina. The journey by the way of Guelma was the 
more fatiguing, but the more picturesque. Then, for a 
long time, I had had an appointment at Guelma with 
Gérard, our lion-killer. We were therefore inclining to 
decide for Guelma, when the Polish colonel drew a letter 
from his pocket. This letter was written in Gérard’s own 
handwriting. It was dated two days before, and announced^ 
that Gérard was at that very moment starting for the inte- 
rior, as he had been sent for by the Arabs, to destroy a 
lioness and her two whelps. 

Gérard had been the great object of our curiosity ; hunt- 
ing the lion with him had been our earnest desire. Gérard 
being no longer at Guelma, we very naturally chose the 
route to Philippeville. 


ARAB STORIES OF LIONS. 


T ET me, although we were disappointed in not meeting 
Gérard, say something here concerning the physiology 
of the lion, and in consequence, concerning Gerard, his 
. terrible and successful antagonist. 

Among the fanciful animals of fabulous antiquity, none 
appears to us more terrible than that terrible reality which 
we call the lion. At Rome, there was no fine hunting 
without the lion. One of the principal grievances of 
Cassius against Cæsar was that the latter had taken from 
him fifty lions which he was keeping at Megara for the 
celebration of his edileship. One of the great memories 
which made Pompey popular at Rome was that, in the 
celebration of his triumph, he had let into the arena three 
hundred maned lions. Neither the serpent of Regulus nor 
the elephants of Hannibal have made so vivid an impres- 
sion on the imagination as has Antony riding with Cytheris 
through the streets of Rome, on a car drawn by two lions. 

The great subject of conversation under the Arab tent is 
the lion. 

The Arabs assert that the lion changes his food thrice 
every year. During the first quarter, he eats demons; 
during the second, human flesh ; during thé third, potter’s- 
clay ; during the fourth, animals. 

The Arabs have observed that the lion, which carries oflT 
a horse or a camel by throwing it boldly over his shoulder, 
and with his burden leaping hedges of three or four feet in 
L 249 


250 


TALES OF ALGEKIA. 


height, can only with extreme difficulty drag along a sheep. 
This anomaly must have a cause. ,The Arabs have found 
it in their poefic imagination. 

One day, in an assembly of animals, the lion, boasting of 
his strength, said : “ If it please God, I shall carry on my 
shoulder the bull ; if it please God, the horse ; if it please 
God” — and so on. Coming to the sheep, he considered the 
matter so trifling, that he forgot to invoke God. God pun- 
ished him for it. The King of* beasts is obliged to drag 
the sheep, which he cannot throw over his shoulder. 

The elephant, the tiger, the panther, and the wild boar 
are, with man, the only animals that dare fight the lion. 
In Morocco has been found a dead boar ten paces from a 
disemboweled lion. 

The Arabs eat lion. According to them, certain portions 
of the animal even cure particular diseases. But they 
eventually pay dearly for their gluttony, for the children 
of a man who has eaten lion almost always die in cutting 
their teeth, the teeth growing huge. 

The marabouts have often raised or tamed lions. Thence 
their reputation for sanctity has almost always augmented. 

The Arabs are keen huntsmen. They chase the lion, 
the panther, the wild-boar, the hyena, the wild-bull, the fox, 
the jackal, and the gazelle. As for the small game which 
among us is killed with shot, they treat it with contempt. 
As a matter of course, the lion is the first, the most danger- 
ous, and the most noble of their adversaries. 

In speaking of the lion, the Arabs call him lord. When 
they speak to him, they call him My lord Johan ben el 
Johan, which means. My lord John, the son of John. 
Why have they bestowed on him both a man’s title and a 
man’s name? It is because, according to them, the lion has 
the noblest qualities of the noblest man ; because he is 
brave, because he is generous; because he understands 


ARAB STORIES OF LIONS. 


251 


human speech, in whatever language he. is addressed; 
because he respects the brave, honors woman, and is pitiless 
to cowards. 

If an Arab meets a lion, he reins in his horse, which trem- 
bles under him, and addresses his terrible antagonist thus : 
“Ah, it is you, my lord John, son of John. Think you to 
tèrrify me — me I such and such a one? You are noble, I 
am noble. You are brave, I am brave. Let me then pass 
as a brother, for I am a man of the sword, a man who has 
his gloomy days.” Then he draws his sabre, makes his 
stirrup-leathers crack, and spurs straight for the lion, 
which gets out of the way, and lets him pass. If on the 
contrary, he is afraid, if he retraces his steps, he is lost ; 
the lion leaps on him and rends him. 

On his part, the lion tests his adversary ; looks at him in 
the face, reads there his emotions. If the man is afraid, the 
lion approaches him, pushes him with his shoulder, throws 
him out of the way, with the cruel growl that announces 
his doom. Then the lion slabbers, and goes aside, making 
circles around his victim, breaking with his lashing tail the 
stems of young trees among the brushwood. Sometimes he 
even disappears. Then the man’s spirits revive, he thinks 
that he has escaped. He flies, but at a hundred paces off 
he finds the lion face to face with him, barring the way. 
Then the lion places one paw on the man’s shoulder, then 
the other, and licks his face with his bloody tongue, until 
a misstep causes the man to fall, or else fright makes him 
faint. Then the lion leaves the man again, and goes to 
drink, sometimes a quarter of a league off. From that 
moment the man belongs to him, he can return when he 
pleases. He drinks, and returns, licks the man again for 
an instant, and then commences his repast. 

Some Arabs — remember, it is always the story-teller of 
the desert, and not Monsieur de Buffon, that speaks 


252 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


tlirougli me — placed in this desperate strait which I have 
just depicted, that is, fainting and lying extended on the 
ground whilst the lion had gone to drink, have been saved 
either by a caravan, by hunters, or by Arabs more brave 
and better instructed in the habits of the lion than they 
themselves were. In the last case, the brave Arab, in lieu 
of aiding the cowardly Arab to fly, — which would cause 
them both to be lost, inasmuch as the lion would overtake 
them both, — awaits the return of the animal. The lion 
reappears, and halts on seeing two men instead of only one. 
The brave Arab advances to meet the lion and says : “ My 
lord John, son of John, he who is lying there is a coward ; 
but I am such a one, son of such or such a one, and I fear 
you not. Still I ask pardon for this wretch, who is not 
worthy to be devoured by you. I bind his hands, and lead 
him away to make of him a slave.” 

Then the lion growls. 

“ Oh ! never fear !” says the brave man ; “ he wdll be 
dealt with severely.” 

Thus speaking, he binds the hands of the coward with 
his camel’s halter. Thereupon the lion, satisfied, departs, 
and this time disappears, not to return. 

There are also Arabs — and they, far more than the men 
who first hazarded themselves at sea, have hearts covered 
with the triple brass of which Horace speaks — ^v’ho pretend 
to be afraid, and who, at the moment when the lion places 
his two paws on their shoulders, rip open his belly with 
their poniards. 

However, depending on the locality, two places of retreat 
offer themselves to the fugitive — a tree within reach, up 
which there is time for him to climb, or a thorny thicket 
into which he can glide like a serpent. The lion fears to 
prick his face ; that expressive face resembling Olympian 
Jove’s, in which Barye and Delacroix have so happily 


ARAB STORIES OF LIONS. 


253 


exhibited the play of muscle. But in the first case men- 
tioned, the lion stands erect against the tree, and in the sec- 
ond, lies down near the thicket, and waits. In either event, 
the man can be saved only by the passage of a caravan. 

On the route to Bathna an Arab once met a lion. He 
fled, and finding a pit on his way, precipitated himself 
into it. The lion came to the pit, plunged his flaming 
glance into it, and judging that once there he \vould not 
be able to extricate himself, lay down at the edge. The 
next day, by good luck, a detachment of French troops 
passed, and put the lion to flight. 

When the lion flies, the Arabs have an infallible way to 
stop him. It is to insult him. “Ah! coward! ah, wretch!’' 
they cry; “you pretend to be the bravest of animals, and 
yet you fly like a woman. We will no longer call you 
lord, we will call you slave.” At these words, the lion 
turns around and awaits the hunters. 

The lion must be utterly famished not to respect woman. 
The Arabs even assert that he fears her. Arabs have 
assured me that they have seen women run after a lion 
carrying off a ewe or a heifer, or perchance a child, seize 
him by the tail, and belabor him with a stick. 

The Arabs assert that the lion never carries off a horse 
picketed before a tent, whereas he constantly carries off 
horses picketed in the pasturages. 

Almost all the lion-skins that I saw in Algeria were mu- 
tilated. This is caused by the women’s pullîng out the 
teeth and claws, and making talismans of them, whenever 
the warriors do not take them to adorn the necks of their 
horses. Lion-skin carpets, it is said, have not only the 
virtue of keeping away noxious animals, but even demons. 

In hunting the lion, it is, above all, important to escape 
the first three bounds of the animal. A single bound is 
sometimes thirty feet. 

22 


254 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


When the hunters have been apprised that a lion has 
advanced into the country, they send scouts, who observe 
the tracks, and discover the place where he stays. Ordi- 
narily, it is in a thicket so slightly thorny that the lion can 
enter it without pricking his face. The scouts then return, 
and make their report; the hunters mount on horseback, 
and surround the thicket. The first who perceives the 
animal cries out as he points at it with his finger — Balie-lienay 
which means, he is not there. Were he to cry out i^a- 
hena^ which means, he is there, the lion which, as I have 
said, understands all languages,^ would not fail to devour 
his denouncer. Every one goes ofi* to a distance of sixty 
metres, so as to escape the first three bounds of the animal, 
and so as to appear to have found the thicket unoccupied. 
There the hunters stop, and fire a volley at the desig- 
nated spot. If the lion has not been mortally wounded, he 
sallies from the thicket. The Arabs, reloading their guns, 
ride off at full speed. If the lion flies, it is then that they 
recall him by insulting him. 

Rarely does a lion-hunt end without the hunters’ having 
to regret the loss of three or four of their number; the 
Jion, so great is his vitality, scarcely ever falling at the first 
fire, even when a ball passes through his heart. 

Generally, in Algeria, they abuse the lion. When a 
man disappears, they say that he has been eaten by a lion. 

The Arabs fear the panther more than the lion, on ac- 
count of the former’s total want of generosity. So, in 
reference to the panther, there exist none of the marvellous 
stories which they tell about the King of beasts. The 
panther met, you kill it, or it kills you. It understands no 
language. It makes no distinction between the brave and 
the cowardly. For it, a man is a man, an enemy and a 
prey. Its bounds are as swift and almost as powerful as 
those of the lion ; it pursues the horseman, leaps on his 


ARAB STORIES OF LIONS. 


255 


horse’s croup, and breaks the horseman’s skull either with 
a blow of its paw or a bite. For this reason the hunters 
wear iron skull-caps. 

Panthers are shot from blinds. The bait intended to 
attract the panther is placed on a branch about five or six 
feet from the ground. At the moment when the animal 
stands on its hind legs to reach the bait, the hunter sends a 
ball into its breast. 

The Arabs make use of the panther-skin to place over 
the djebira which covers the pommel of their saddles. 

There still remains to be described the hyena, for which 
Monsieur de Bufibn has made so terrible a reputation. 
Monsieur de Bufibn who — as was said by an Academician 
full of poetic similes — ^wrote on the knees of Nature. Un- 
fortunately, Monsieur de Bufibn wrote oftener on the knees 
of Parisian Nature, than on those of real Nature. Observe 
how, from the most cowardly and miserable of animals — 
the hyena, he has made one of the most terrible. 

The consequence of doing so, was that a governor of 
Algeria, who had studied Africa, not in Africa, but in 
Monsieur de Bufibn, fearing lest our fleet should be 
unmanned by the death of the unhappy sailors attracted 
to shore by the wailings of hyenas, ordered a premium of 
twenty-five francs to be paid to every hunter who should 
kill one of those terrible animals. When the Arabs 
learned of this decree, they rejoiced amazingly. Twenty- 
five francs apiece for hyena muzzles ! — the price is almost 
as much as the law gives our Representatives. So the 
Arabs began to hunt the hyena, and not a week passes but 
an Arab is seen entering Algiers leading a muzzled hyena 
in leash. When the hyena refuses to walk the Arab drives 
it along with a cudgel. 

I asked an Arab whether hyena-hunting was very dan- 
gerous. He made me repeat my question twice: he did 


256 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


not understand me. When he did, he smiled as much as 
an Arab can smile, and inquired whether I should like 
him to tell me how the Arabs take the hyena. Of course 
I accepted his offer. This, according to the statement of 
the Arab, is the way in which the hunting is done when it 
is desired to capture the animal alive : 

When an Arab discovers the cavern where a hyena is 
concealed, he spreads his burnoose over the entrance, and 
thus excludes the light. Then, with extended arms he 
enters the place. When he has touched the hyena, he says 
to it : “ Give me your paw, so that I can put henna on it.” 
The coquettish hyena, tempted by such a promise, puts out 
its paw. The Arab takes it by the paw, and leads it out- 
side, where he muzzles it, and puts it in leash. Thus he 
leads it to Algiers. 

I do not vouch for the perfect truthfulness of the details 
of this hunt, but they afford an idea of the estimation in 
which the Arabs hold the courage of the hyena. Never- 
theless, it is not in strength that the hyena is lacking, 
especially not in strength of jaw. In 1841, an Arab 
led a hyena to Oran, and presented it to General La- 
moricière. It was able to crush with its teeth a thigh- 
bone of beef. The General sent it to the Jardin des 
Plantes. 

I now return to Gérard, the lion-killer. 


GERARD, THE LION-KILLER 


rpHE Arabs can remember but one lion-killer. He 
-L was named Hassan. He bad been the huntsman of 
Hamed Bey, Mameluke Bey, and Braham Bey. He died 
during the reign of the last-mentioned Bey. The Arabs 
thus describe his death : 

“ A lion roars. Hassan goes to meet him. A report is 
heard, then a roar, then a cry, then — ^nothing. Hassan 
was dead.” 

Hassan hunted the lion,* using blinds of stone, covered 
with trunks of trees and with earth. He also killed several 
lions from places of concealment amid the branches of trees. 
His weapons were a rifle, two pistols, and a yataghan. He 
hunted during eleven years. The Arabs difler as to the 
number of lions that he killed. 

Chance reserved for France the honor of giving a suc- 
cessor to Hassan. This successor is Jules Gerard, quarter- 
master of spahis. Jules Gérard is a man of about thirty 
or thirty-one yeslrs of age, small, slender, and light-com- 
plexioned. His blue eye is at the same time mild and 
determined, his beard is light and sparse, his voice 
sweet, and feminine in its tones. In 1842, he enlisted in 
the spahis of Bona. He chose that corps because the 
spahis never leave Africa. 

He arrived at Bona, in 1842. They tried, at first, to 
make a sort of military clerk of him. At the end of three 
months, he became tired of scratching paper, and asked for 
22 257 


258 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


a horse and a gun. Thenceforward he was one of the most 
diligent target-shots of the garrison. 

• Soon afterward, his squadron was disbanded, to form that 
of Guelma. Gérard asked to go to Guelma, which is 
eighteen leagues in the interior. At Guelma there would 
be engagements, or at least hunting. He obtained the 
favor of being transferred to that place. From the third 
night after his arrival Gérard scaled the ramparts of the 
camp, to go hunt the wild-boar, the hyena, and the jackal. 

It was at Guelma, that Gérard first heard mention of 
Hassan, of lions, of their ravages, of the danger of encoun- 
tering them. All those stories which I have told, Gérard 
heard narrated in the evenings; and the poetry of the 
desert flew to his head, intoxicating him, and causing him 
to dream through the livelong night. In his dreams he 
found himself face to face with the terrible lords of the 
mountain ; he contended with ‘them, and feared not. He 
resolved to consign Hassan to oblivion. 

Great practice at the target had given him an accuracy 
of eye and a steadiness of hand which were beginning to 
be extolled throughout the country. He often said to the 
Arabs : “ If any lion should descend from the mountain, 
notify me ; for I also desire to be a lion-killer like Hassan ; 
but without blinds, without shelter in trees.” 

THE FIRST LIOX. 

About the beginning of July, 1844, Gérard learned that 
a lion .was ravaging Archioua. Every night the lord of 
the mountain descended into the plain, and levied his tithe 
of the flocks. Gérard asked for a leave of absence, and 
received one for three days. 

On arriving at the Arab douar, no one would believe 
that it was this young man, seemingly a child, who came 
from the French camp to encounter the lion. To these 


259 


GÉRARD, THE LION-IvILLER. 

primitive men, it seemed as if only a powerful frame could 
possess great courage, and as if only brute force could con- 
tend with brute force. 

Gérard, after his arrival, lost no time in setting off on 
the hunt ; but the first day passed in fruitless search. The 
second day, he had a herd of cattle driven into the woods 
of Archioua, and accompanied by two Arabs, he followed 
it. The day passed without their seeing anything, but at 
evening the lion began to roar. Gérard confessed to 
me that, at the first roar, his heart beat. However, no 
one but himself knew it, for he walked straight for the 
roar. 

Suddenly, amid a wavering shadow, about fifty paces off, 
he saw the lion. On his part, the lion had seen the hunter, 
whom no doubt, he had for a long time scented. At the 
sight, his tail waved, his mane stood erect; he lowered 
his head, pawed the ground, roared, and walked straight 
toward Gérard. 

The two Arabs wanted to fire, but, with an imperious 
gesture, Gérard stopped them. It was for him to measure 
himself in single combat with the lion, and to assure him- 
self at once of his prowess. 

The lion continued to advance at the same pace, without 
exhibiting any sign of anger, save a quicker lashing of 
his tail, and a more rigid bristling of his mane. Every 
moment diminished the space between him and the hunter. 
From the distance of fifty paces, he had approached to 
forty, to thirty, to twenty, to ten. Gérard had stood mo- 
tionless, and kept his aim upon the lion from the moment 
when he first perceived him. Perhaps the lion doubted 
whether what he saw was a man. However that may 
be, at ten paces from Gérard the lion paused. A bright 
flash accompanied a report, and the lion rolled over stone- 
dead. The ball had struck him just in the middle of 


260 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


the forehead, had broken the skull, and penetrated the 
brain. 

I asked Gérard why he had waited until the lion came 
so near. He replied simply : “ I had but one shot.’’ 

The victor returned to the douar. Had he been alone, 
no one would have believed him : the Arabs with him gave 
an account of the lion’s death. The next day they went 
to find the careass. 

The news spread rapidly through all the country, that a 
Frenchman had gone straight up to a lion, and killed him 
at the first shot. In consequence, at the beginning of the 
following August, Gérard received information that a lion 
^■had been prowling about for eight days in the vicinity of 
the douar of Zeouezi, and making great havoç among the 
flocks. ^ 

THE SECOND LION. 

On this occasion, Gérard set out with a corporal of 
spahis, a native of the country, named Saadi Bounar. 
After having obtained at the douar all the information that 
they could procure, they went to station themselves in a 
gully, near Aïn Sefra, in the pass of Sergi el Haouda, to 
await the terrible lion of Mahouna. 

They stayed there a portion of the night, without seeing 
anything, without hearing anything ; holding their breath, 
lest the slightest noise should indicate their presence. 
About half-past one o’cloek, Saadi Bounar, tired of fruit- * 
lessly waiting, fell asleep. 

What do you think of a man who could go to sleep when 
w^aiting for a lion? Fortunately Gérard remained awake. 

About two o’clock, at a moment when the moon, whieh 
had shone all night, had just become obscured by a cloud, 
Gérard thought that he perceived an ill-defined shadow 
move. Every moment, however, its form became more 


.y» 


GÉEAIID, THE LIOX-KILLEE. 261 

and more distinct, and he discovered that he was in thé 
presence of his expected foe. 

On this occasion Gérard had a double-barrelled rifle. 

As before, he shows no haste, but awaits motionless. 
The lion, which imagines that he has caught a glimpse of 
an enemy, advances with measured pace and rai^d head. 
Then, at a bound, he clears about twenty paces. The dis- 
tance between him and Gérard is thereby reduced to about 
thirty paces. Thereupon, the lion snufls the wind, raises 
his head, shakes his mane, bounds again, and alights about 
fifteen paces from Gérard. 

This time Gérard takes him at the instant he alights. 
He fires, and a terrible roar proclaims that the lion is 
wounded. The roar awakes Saadi Bounar, who leaps 
quickly to his feet, and is about to fire ; but Gérard re- 
strains him. The lion rears, pawing the air. 

At the second shot, Gérard hits him full in the breast. 
He then seizes his companion’s rifle. But a third shot is un- 
necessary. The lion rolls over, tears up the ground, rises, 
and falls to rise no more. 

Followed by a concourse of Arabs, Gérard returned to 
camp, bringing back the skin of the lion of Mahouna, 
as Hercules did that of the Nemean Lion. 

THE THIED LION. 

For some months a lion overran the country of Ouled 
Bouazis. He especially ravaged the farm of Monsieur de 
Montjol. Gérard was appealed to, and, furnished with per- 
mission from his captain, eagerly repaired to Bona. The day 
after his arrival, that is to say, on the 28th February, 1845, 
he started on the hunt. On the skirt of the woods of Ku- 
nega, which command the plain, he imagined that he 
perceived signs, and soon he acquired the certainty that he 
was on the track of the lion. 


262 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


In the interval before night, he visited the douar of Ali 
ben Mohammed, where the Arabs eagerly hastened to 
proffer him cakes, dates, and milk ; then, after partaking 
of that frugal repast, he, hearing the first roars of the 
animal in the mountain, started off, guided by a single 
Arab, who represented the ford of Kunega to be the 
favorite crossing-place of the lion. 

Gérard seated hiniself on a stone, at six paces from this 
crossing-place, whilst his companion withdrew about thirty 
paces, and took shelter behind a lentisk. 

Meanwhile, the roaring, which grew more and more 
frightful, indicated not only that the lion was afoot, but 
that he was approaching. Soon, the direction which he 
pursued was so plainly indicated by the noise which he 
made, that Gérard no longer doubted, that faithful to his 
nocturnal habits, he would soon cross at the place men- 
tioned by the Arab. In fact, about eight o’clock, the lion 
arrived at the ford, and, without perceiving Gérard, passed 
within six paces of him. 

The hunter aims with his usual coolness, and fires when 
the lion is at the muzzle of his rifle. The lion has neither 
strength nor time to turn. Struck unawares, he rolls into 
the ford, uttering dreadful roars. Gérard advances, and 
sees him mouthing the mud in the bed of the river. Already 
unaccustomed to retrieve a want of success, Gérard thinks 
that he has mortally wounded the lion, and returns to the 
douar, indicating to the people of the place where, on the 
next day, they will find the carcass. 

At daybreak, he returned to the ford of Kunega ; but 
the lion had disappeared. Yet, in five or six spots, the 
ground, bloody and torn, bore witness to the agony of the 
beast. 

On that day, it was impossible for Gérard to regain trace 
of him. The whole evening and night were spent in plan- 


GÉRARD, THE LION-KILLER. 263 

ning a battue for the next day. At the time appointed, 
the Arabs repaired in crowds to the forest, and explored it 
in every direction, but without success. 

Unfortunately, Gérard’s leave of absence was to expire 
on the morrow, and he must abandon the hunt. This was 
the first lion that had escaped him. 

About three o’clock, he left the Arabs, and returned to 
the douar, where he made his preparations for departure. 
All at once, five or six reports of fire-arms broke upon his 
ear, and announced to him that all hope w^as not to be 
relinquished. Already on horseback to depart, he galloped 
in the direction of the firing, and rejoined the Arabs, who, 
the moment they perceived him in the distance, shouted,^ 
‘‘ The black lion, black as night, son ^of a boar and a 
lioness, bigger than the Bey’s horse. There he is, in front 
of us, in the thicket ! None but a lion more terrible than 
himself can dislodge him !” 

By the trembling of his horse, Gerard perceives that the 
Arabs are right. He ‘dismounts, and advances alone to- 
ward the stronghold into which, from a distance, the Arabs 
had seen the animal enter ; and he endeavors to discover 
it by separating the branches with the barrel of his rifle. 
But nothing budges in the thicket. Then Gerard shouts to 
the Arabs to bring dogs, to regain the beast’s track, which 
he believes lost. But, with their burnooses, the Arabs sig- 
nal to him that the lion has ;iot left his stronghold. The 
reader remembers the superstition which deters them from 
pronouncing the words, Ra-hena — he is there. 

Meanwhile, two Arabs, bolder than the rest, detach them- 
selves from the troop, and advance toward Gérard. One, 
armed with a yataghan only, halts at sixty paces from 
Gérard ; the other, armed with a gun, halts at about twenty 
paces from hii;i. The latter, wdiile making a sign to Gérard 
to hold himself in readiness, picks up a stone and throws it 


264 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


into the midst of the thicket. Immediately the branches are 
heard to crackle, the cactus is seen to open, and, as if break- 
ing through a wall, the lion comes bounding forth, recog- 
nizes Gérard as his old adversary, and rushes at him. 
Scarcely has Gérard time to put his rifle to his shoulder. He 
fires, and the lion pauses as if struck by lightning, falls, 
and raises himself ; but a second shot strikes him, and he 
rolls helplessly to the bottom of a ravine. The Arabs run 
up, but, before they reach the place, the lion is in his death- 
agony, gasping vlth his jaws streaming with blood. 

On this occasion, they did not postpone until the next 
day the task of removing the lion. A few shots terminated 
his misery, he was placed jdu a litter, and borne to the 
douar. 

When the lion appeared, the Arab armed with the 
yataghan had turned his back, and confided his safety to 
his legs. At first, the one armed with the gun had done 
likewise, but, after a few steps, he had returned conscience- 
stricken. 

The carcass of the lion was placed in fi'ont of the Sheik’s 
tent, under which all the Arabs of the douar were asssem- 
bled. Each, in turn, apostrophized it ; one asking an ac- 
count of his ox, another of his horse, this one of his sheep, 
that one of his camel. Then one of the ancients of the 
tribe arose, requested silence, and said : 

“My children: In very truth the lion of Kunega lies 
before you ; he wEose roar in the mountains we have nightly 
heard ; he who lately, before daylight, put our whole douar 
in commotion ; he who destroyed our neighbor’s flocks ; he 
who, at Sidi Denden, carried ofi* a mare and many oxen ; 
he, in fine, who feasted on human blood, by devouring, in 
open day, a Christian travelling on the highway, and a 
Mussulman near the banks of a stream. 

“You see, my children, that the lion of Kunega is in- 


GÉRAED, THE LION-KILLER. 


265 


deed dead; but the real lion still lives, to bring low all 
those that he may encounter. 

“ Honor to the brave Gérard, the lion-killer ! May his 
memory ever be dear to us, and may he depart loaded with 
our gratitude I” 

The lion of Kunega had been known for over sixty years. 

THE FOURTH LION. 

The following July, Gerard lay in wait for a lion at the 
ford of Boulerbegh. His waiting was in vain until eleven 
o’clock at night, but at that time, instead of one lion, 
three lions appeared. The first which perceived the hunter 
halted, but, at that very moment, Gérard broke his shoul- 
der with a rifle-shot. The lion roaring, rolled into the oued 
Cherf, and his two terrified companions fled. 

Gérard, who knew not what had become of the wounded 
lion, darted in pursuit; but on reaching the edge of the 
stream, he found himself face to face with the lion, which 
had scrambled up the steep bank, and was returning to- 
ward the hunter. A second shot precipitated the lion into 
the bed of the river, but without killing him. Despite the 
second wound, Gérard’s terrible adversary again rose, and 
it. was not until he had received the fourth ball, that he fell 
to rise no more. 


THE FIFTH LION. 

Gérard, in August of the same year, traversed the dis- 
trict of Bereban. About eight o’clock in the evening, he 
heard a lioness roar two hundred paces from him. This 
time he did not take even the trouble to lie in ambush and 
await the animal’s approach, he walked straight up -to her, 
broke her skull with a ball, and killed her on the spot. 

M 


23 


266 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


THE SIXTH LION. 

Would not the reader like to hear Gérard speak for him- 
self? Eead the following letter in which he recounts to 
Colonel Boyer one of those terrible conflicts with which he 
had become familiar. 

January Sth, 1846. 

“ Colonel : 

“ I arrived here yesterday from Mahouna, where I have 
been since the 16th of December ; and I make a point of 
submitting to you the details of my encounter with the 
lioness of Ouled Hamza. 

“ For several days, the lioness had molested the flocks 
belonging to the douar w^here I was staying, but at first I 
was not able to come across her. After having carefully 
followed her tracks during the whole of the 5th, I caused 
a goat to be fastened on her usual path. Scarcely ten 
minutes had elapsed after I had taken my stand, when the 
lioness showed her head near the edge of the woods, about 
fifteen paces from the goat, and after having cast a cau- 
tious glance around her, she started on a run toward her 
j)rey. She was about six feet from the goat, when my ball, 
striking her in the head, knocked her down. Seeing her 
attempt to rise as she was rolling over, I gave her a second 
ball, and she fell again. 

“ The Arabs tending flocks about a hundred paces from 
the spot, witnessed the scene, and ran up shouting with joy. 
But whilst, without reloading my rifle, I was approaching 
the lioness, — ^which uttered a mufiled roar and stiffened 
her limbs like a dying animal, — ^w’e, Avhen within two 
paces, saw her, to our great amazement, rise and fall, 
rise again, and with a tolerably swift pace regain the woods. 
I reloaded my rifle, and we started in pursuit. 

“From the spot where she fell, on which she had left 


GÉRARD, THE LION-KILLER. 267 

more than a quart of blood, we followed her until nightfall, 
without once losing her track. Wherever she fell, there was 
a pool of blood. From time to time, we could see her hiding 
with difficulty before our advance; trailing herself from 
bush to bush : but never close enough for us to give her the 
death-blow. Snow and night compelled us to return. 

We fully promised ourselves to return to the forest the 
next day, but ever since snow has continued to fall ; and 
besides, I have been attacked with a fever, which compelled 
me to return to Guelma, after having received the con- 
gratulations and thanks of the Arabs for having delivered 
them from a lioness which was in the habit every year of 
wintering in their district. They promised me, that if the 
weather grew better, they would go for the lioness, and 
bring her to me ; but the snow-storm continues, and it is 
not easy to say when they will be able to put their project 
into execution. 

“ I have the honor to be yours, &c., 

“Jules Gerard.” 

THE SEVENTH LION. 

During March, 1840, a lioness whelped in the woods 
called El Ghela ta Debba, situated on Mt. Meziour, in the 
district of Ouled Hall Hall. The Chief of that tribe, 
named Zidem, appealed to Sidi ben Embarack, Chief of the 
tribe of Beni Foural, his neighbor ; and at sunrise, on the 
appointed day, thirty men from each of these tribes assem- 
bled on the summit of Mt. Meziour. 

These sixty Arabs, after completely surrounding the 
thicket which served as a stronghold for the lioness, — 
which thicket did not cover thirty square metres, — gave 
several huzzas ; and not seeing the lioness appear, 
searched the place, and discovered two whelps about a 
month old. They retired in haste and without order, 


268 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


imagining that they had nothing to fear from the dam ; 
when the sheik, Sidi ben Embarack, who was in the 
rear, perceived the lioness emerging from the woods, and 
directing her course toward him. He at once called to 
his aid his nephew, Messaoud ben Hadji, and his friend Ali 
ben Braham, who hastened to him. But the lioness, 
instead of attacking the Sheik, who was on horseback, 
fell upon his nephew, Avho was afoot. The latter awaited 
her onset with steadiness, and did not pull trigger until she 
was at the muzzle of his piece. The priming flashed in 
the pan. 

Messaoud drops his gun, and extends his left arm. The 
lioness seizes and crushes his arm in her jaws. Mean- 
while, Messaoud draws a pistol from his sash and dis- 
charges it at the breast of the lioness. The pistol was 
loaded with two balls. At this shot the lioness relinquishes 
her hold, leaves Messaoud, and rushes upon Ali ben Bra- 
ham, who discharges his piece into her open jaws almost at 
the muzzle. Ali ben Braham attempts to fly, and puts his 
horse to a gallop ; but the lioness darts upon him, seizes 
him by the shoulders, craunches his right hand with her 
teeth, lays him bare with a stroke of her claws, and 
expires upon his body. 

Twenty-four hours after the encounter, Messaoud died. 
Ali ben Braham is still alive, but crippled. 

On the 24th of February, 1846, the same sheik, Sidi ben 
Embarack, went to Guelma to find Gérard, and said to 
him: “A lioness, with her young is in Jebel Meziour, 
ravaging our flocks. The kaïd, Zidem, has gone to the 
place with his goum, but not one of the kaïd’s horsemen 
has dared to approach the woods. I come to get you.’^ 

Gerard at once set out with him, and the next day pro- 
ceeded toward Meziour. He was accompanied by Omback 
ben Attman, a brother of the Sheik, and by a spahi. 


GÉRARD, THE LIOX-KILLER. 269 

Keacliing the summit of the mountain, Gerard saw the 
lioness hunting about two hundred paces off. He was 
desirous of going immediately in pursuit of her, but 
Omback said to him : “ The wood where the little ones are 
is in front of us : we ought to go there. After you have 
secured the whelps, it will be easy for you, God willing, to 
kill the dam.” 

Gerard was of the same opinion as his companion. He 
directed his steps toward the wood, and, after having 
searched it in every direction, found, at the foot of an ivy- 
clad oak, and in the midst of a broad glade, a pretty 
little lioness about a month old. After having had it car- 
ried to the Sheik’s dwelling, Gérard, for the purpose of 
taking some food and waiting for sunset, went to the douar 
of Mohammed ben Ahmed, situated a quarter of a league 
from the wood. At sunset he returned to the oak. Om- 
back had chosen to accompany him and take a position 
near him. 

About eight o’clock in the evening, the two hunters 
heard the cry of a young lion. Gerard went to get it, and 
brought it to the foot of the tree, hoping that its cries would 
attract the dam, but he waited all night in vain. The next 
day, the mountain was searched, but the lioness was not to 
be found. She had disappeared. It has since been learned 
that she directed her course toward Jebel Ledora. 

The little lioness was slightly ill, but finally got well. 
As for the young lion, he is in perfect health, and they call 
him Hubert, in memory of the patron saint of huntsmen. 

THE EIGHTH LION. 

On the 25th of August, 1846, Gérard was notified by 
an Arab, named Lakdar ben Hadji, of the district of 
Boulerbegh, that a lion, during his stay of about a year 
in the neighborhood, had devoured thirty cattle, forty-five 
23 * 


270 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


sheep, and two mares. , Gérard immediately repaired to 
Mahouna. For three nights he sought the lion in vain. 
On the morning of the fourth day, Lakdar came to an- 
nounce to him that a black bull was missing from the herd, 
and that, during the night, it had doubtless fallen a prey 
to the lion. Gerard then set off in search of the bull. 
After an hour’s search, the animal wa's found dead, and 
scarcely touched. A tree grew at the distance of six paces 
from the dead bull. Against it Gérard leaned, and aw^aited 
the lion’s return. 

About eight o’clock in the evening, the lion appeared,* 
and advanced straight for Gérard. At ten paces from the 
hunter, he paused for a second. Gérard profited by this 
opportunity and fired. The ball put out the lion’s right 
eye, and penetrated his brain. On receiving this terrible 
wound, the lion reared, pawing the air, and roaring Avith 
rage and pain. Gérard took advantage of the target offered 
by his enemy, and sent a ball into his breast. The lion 
fell, rose, and advanced toward Gérard, who met him half- 
way, and plunged into him' a poniard. But on its way to 
the heart, the blade encountered the bone of the lion’s fore- 
shoulder, and snapped. Gérard leaped backAA^ard, recovered 
ground, reloaded his gun, and despatched the dying lion by 
putting two more balls into him. 

THE NINTH LION. 

Gerard was engaged in hunting this lion when we ar- 
rived at Bona. 

This lion, or rather this lioness, had two male whelps of 
a year old, which circumstance rendered her all the more 
terrible to the inhabitants of Archioua, because she had to 
seek food for three mouths eternally famished. 

Gérard lay in wait for her near a horse which she had 
killed the previous evening, and dragged to the bottom of 


271 


GÉRARD, THE LION-KILLER. 

a ravine. At nine o’clock, he saw her advancing, followed 
by her two whelps, which were already as large as New- 
foundland dogs. One of the whelps was beginning to make 
a meal on the horse, when the lioness, perceiving Gérard, 
darted upon it, and chased it . away. When it was in 
safety, she advanced, gliding from bush to bush, like a 
serpent. 

A thicket separated her from Gerard. She crawled 
through it, and in an instant Gérard perceived, through the 
leaves, the animal’s head at eight paces off. A ball in the 
middle of her forehead killed her outright. 

This was the point in his exploits which Gérard had 
reached when we arrived at Bona. Since then, I have seen 
him in Paris, and it is- from his own mouth that I have the 
details which I place before the eyes of my readers. 

The fate of Gérard is now fatally indicated. From all 
parts of Africa people come to seek him. He is not able, 
and he desires not to recoil. He will leave on the shores 
of Africa the reputation of the Nemean Hercules, and the 
song of the Arab will one day say of him, as it does of 
Hassan : 

“ A lion roars, Gérard goes to meet him. A report is 
heard, a roar, then a cry, then — nothing. Gérard was 
dead.”* 

The proprietors of the Journal Des Chasseurs have 
presented Gérard with a magnificent hunting-knife, exe- 
cuted by Devisme, artist-gunsmith. 


* It seems to be well established that, about two years ago, while 
engaged in exploring Central Africa, Gerard met his fate, but not 
that predicted, having been murdered by some of the savage inhabi- 
tants of the country. — Trans. 


THE SHEIK, BOU AKAS BE.N ACHOUR. 


T here dwells in Ferd^’ Ouali a sheik named Bon Akas 
ben Achour. It is one of the most ancient names in 
the country, so we find it in the history of the dynasties of 
the Arabs and Berbers of Ibn Khaldoun. 

Bou Akas, or The Man of the Club, who is called also 
Bou d’Jenoui, or The Man of the Knife, is an extraordinary 
type of the Arab of the East. His ancestors conquered 
Ferdj’ Ouah, the Beautiful Land, which he, having suc- 
ceeded to their possessions, united, and. he reigns over that 
delightful region. 

The sheik, El Islam Mohammed ben Fagoune, who had 
been invested with authority by Marshal Valée, induced 
Bou Akas to recognize the sovereignty of France. In con- 
sequence, Bou Akas indicated his adherence by sending a 
horse from Gada, but he persistently declined to go to Con- 
stantina. In response to all solicitations, he has always 
pleaded the obstacle of an oath. The true cause is that he 
fears lest he may be detained as a prisoner. 

Bou Akas pays a tribute of eighty thousand francs. 
Every year, after the harvest, on the same day, at the same 
hour, at the same gate, one may see enter camels laden with 
the sum, which has never lacked a farthing. 

He is forty-nine years of age. He dresses like the Ka- 
byles ; that is, in a gandoura of wool girt with a leathern 
belt, and fastened around the head with a slender cord. He 
272 


THE SHEIK, BOTJ AKAS BEK ACHOUE. 273 

carries a pair of pistols in his shoulder-belt, at his left side 
the Kabyle flissa, and, hanging from his neck, a little black 
knife. Before him walks a negro, carrying his gun, and 
at his side bounds a large greyhound. 

When a tribe in the vicinity of the twelve tribes over 
which he rules occasions him any loss, he deigns not to 
march against it, but is satisfied with sending his negro to 
the principal village, where the negro shows the gun of Bou 
Akas, and the injury is repaired. 

There are in his pay two or three tolbas who read the 
Koran to the people. Every person passing by his dwell- 
ing on a pilgrimage to Mecca, receives three francs, and at 
his expense, remains in Ferdj’ Ouah as long as he pleases. 
But should. Bou Akas learn that he has had to do with a 
false pilgrim, he sends emissaries to overtake the man 
wherever he may be, and they, on the spot, turn him over on 
his face, and give him twenty blows of the bastinado on the 
soles of his feet. 

Bou Akas sometimes dines three hundred persons, but 
instead of partaking of the repast, he walks around among 
his guests with a stick in his hand, marshalling his do- 
mestics; then, if there is anything left, he eats, but the 
very last. 

His sway extends from Milah to Eaboua, and from a 
point south of Babour to two leagues from Gigelli. 

When the Governor of Constantina, the only man whose 
supremacy he acknowledges, sends him a traveller, — accord- 
ing to whether the traveller is a man of note, or the recom- 
mendation is pressing, Bou Akas presents him with his gun, 
his dog, or his knife. If he presents his gun, the traveller 
shoulders it ; if his dog, the traveller holds it in leash ; if 
his knife, the traveller suspends it from his neck. With 
one or another of these talismans, each of which bears 
with it the degree of honor to be rendered, the traveller 
M ■» 


274 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


passes through the twelve tribes, without incurring the 
slightest danger. Everywhere, he is fed and lodged for 
nothing, for he is the guest of Bou Akas. When he leaves 
Ferdj’ Ouah, it is sufficient for him to deliver the knife, the 
dog, or the gun, to the first Arab that he meets. The Arab, 
if hunting, stops ; if tilling the ground, quits liis plough ; 
if in the bosom of his family, departs; and taking the 
knife, the dog, or the gun, returns it to Bou Akas. 

In fact, the little black-handled knife is very well known ; 
so well known, that it has given its name to Bou Akas — 
Bou d’Jenoui, or The Man of the Knife. It is with this 
knife that Bou Akas cuts off people’s heads when, for the 
sake of prompt justice, he thinks fit to decapitate with his 
own hand. 

When Bou Akas succeeded to his possessions, there were 
a great number of thieves in the country. He found 
means to exterminate them. He dressed himself like a 
simple merchant, then dropped a douro, taking care not to 
lose sight of it. A lost douro does not remain long on the 
ground. If he who picked it up, pocketed it, Bou Akas 
made a sign to his chiaous, disguised like himself, to arrest 
the culprit. The chiaous, knowing the Sheik’s intention in 
regard to the culprit, beheaded him without more ado. 
The effect of this rigor is such, that it is a saying among 
the Arabs, that a child of twelve years of age wearing 
a golden crown could pass through the tribes of Bou Akas 
without a finger’s being raised to rob it. 

One day, Bou Akas heard mentioned that the cadi of one 
of his twelve tribes rendered judgments worthy of King 
Solomon. Like another Haroun al Raschid, he wished to 
decide for himself the truth of the stories which were told 
him. Consequently, he set out in the guise of an ordinary 
horseman, without the arms which usually distinguished 
him, without any emblem of rank, without followers, and 


THE SHEIK, BOU AKAS BEN ACHOIJR. 275 

mounted on a blood-horse, about which nothing betrayed 
that it belonged to so great a Chief. 

It so chanced that, on the day of his arrival at the 
thrice-happy city where the cadi sat in judgment, there 
was a Fair, and, in consequence of that, the Court was in 
session. It so chanced also, — Mahomet in all things 
watches over his servants, — ^that at the gate of the city, Bou 
Akas met a cripple, who, hanging upon his burnoose, as the 
poor man hung upon the cloak of St. Martin, asked him for 
alms. Bou Akas gave the alms, as behooves an honest 
Mussulman to do, but the cripple continued to cling to his 
burnoose. 

“What do you want?” asked Bou Akas; “you have 
solicited alms, and I have bestowed them on you.” 

“Yes,” replied the cripple; “but the Law does not say 
only, ‘Thou shalt bestow alms on thy brother,’ but, in 
addition, ‘Thou shalt do for thy brother all in thy power.’” 

“Well ! what can I do for you?” inquired Bon Akas. 

“ You can save me, poor wretch that I am, from being 
crushed under the feet of the men, the mules, and the 
camels, which will not fail to happen if I risk myself in 
the city.” 

“ And how can I prevent that ?” said the Sheik. 

“ By taking me up behind you, and carrying me to the 
market-place, whei*e I have business.” 

“ Be it so,” said Bou Akas, and lifting, up the cripple, he 
helped him to mount behind. . The operation was 'accom- 
panied with some difficulty, but it was at last accomplished. 
The two men on the single horse traversed the city, not 
without exciting general curiosity. They arrived at the 
market-place. 

“ Is it here that you wished to go ?” inquired Bou Akas 
of the cripple. 

“Yes.” 


276 


TALES OF. ALGERIA. 


“ Then dismount,” said the Sl^ik. 

“ Dismount yourself.” 

“ To help you down, very well I” 

“ No, to let me have the horse.” 

“ Why ? wherefore should I let you have the horse ?” 
said the astonished Sheik. 

‘‘ Because the horse is mine.” 

' “ Ah, indeed ! we shall soon see about that I” 

“ Listen, and consider,” said the cripple. 

“ I am listening, and I will consider afterward.” 

“We are in the city of the just Cadi.” 

“ I know it,” assented the Sheik. 

“You intend to prosecute me before him?” 

“ It is extremely probable.” 

“Now, do you think that, when he sees us two, — ^you 
with your sturdy legs, which God has destined for walking 
and fatigue, me, with my broken legs, — think you, I say, 
that he will not decide that the horse belongs to the one of 
the two travellers who has the greater need of it ?” 

“ If he say so,” replied Bou Akas, “ he will no longer be 
the just Cadi, for his decision will be wrong.” 

“They call him the just Cadi,” rejoined the cripple, 
laughing, “ but they do not call him the infallible Cadi.” 

“ Upon my word !” said Bou Akas to himself, “ here is a 
fine chance for me to judge the Judge; Come on, let us 
go before the Ca^i.” 

Bou* Akas made his way through the throng, leading his 
horse, on whose croup the cripple clung like an ape ; and 
presented himself before the tribunal where the Judge, ac- 
cording to the custom in the East, publicly dispensed justice. 

Two cases were before the Court, and of course took 
precedence. Bou Akas obtained a place among the audi- 
ence, and listened. The first case was a suit between a 
taleb and a peasant, that is to say, a savant and a laborer. 


thî; sheik, bou akas ben achour. 277 


The point in question was in reference to the savant’s wife, 
with whom the peasant had eloped, and whom he main- 
tained to be his, in opposition to the savant, who claimed 
her. The woman would not acknowledge either of the 
men to be her husband, or rather, she acknowledged both ; 
which circumstance rendered the affair embarrassing to the 
last degree. The Judge heard both parties, reflected an 
instant, and said : 

“Leave the woman with me, and return .to-morrow.” 

The savant and the laborer each bowed and withdrew. 

The second case now came on. This was a suit between 
a butcher and an oil-merchant. The oil-merchant was 
covered with oil, and the butcher was all besmeared with 
blood. The following was the butcher’s story : 

“ I went to buy oil at this man’s house. In paying for 
the oil, with which he had filled my bottle, I took from my 
purse a handful of money. This money tempted him. He 
seized me by the wrist. I cried thief, but he would not 
let go of me, and we came together before you — I clasping 
. my money in my hand, he grasping my wrist. Now I 
swear by Mahomet, that this man is a liar when he says 
that I stole his money, for in truth the money is mine.” 

The following was the oil-merchant’s story : 

“ This man came to buy a bottle of oil at my house. 
When the bottle was full, he said to me, ‘Have you change 
I» for a gold piece ?’ I then felt in my pocket, and drew out 
my hand full of money, and put the money down on the 
sill of my shop. He snatched it up, and was about to go 
with both it and my oil, when I caught him by the wrist, 
and cried thief. In spite of my cries, he w^ould not return 
my money, and I have brought him here, that you may 
decide between us. Now, I swear by Mahomet, that this 
man is a liar when he says that I stole his money, for in 
truth the money is mine.” 

24 


278 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


The Judge made each of the men, complainants and 
defendants, repeat his charge. Neither varied. Then the 
Judge pondered a moment and said : 

“ Leave the money with me and return to-morrow.” 

The butcher deposited in a fold of the Judge^s robe 
the money of which he had never relinquished his hold ; 
whereupon the two men bowed, and each went his way. 

It was now the turn of Bou Akas and the cripple. 

“My lord Cadi,” said Bou Akas, “I have just come 
from a distant city, with the intention of buying goods at 
this mart. At the gate of the city, I met this cripple, Who 
at first asked me for alms, and finally begged me to allow 
him to mount behind me ; telling me that, if he risked him- 
self in the streets, he, poor wretch, feared lest he should be 
crushed under the feet of the men, the mules, and the 
camels. Thereupon, I gave him alms, and mounted him 
behind me. Having arrived at the market-place, he would 
not alight, saying that the horse which I rode belonged to 
him ; and when I threatened him with the law, ‘ Bah !’ he 
replied, ‘ the Cadi is too sensible a man not to know that 
the horse is the property of that one of us who cannot 
travel without a horse !’ This is the affair, in all sincerity, 
my lord Cadi, I swear it by Mahomet.” 

“ My lord Cadi,” responded the cripple, “ I was going on 
business to the market of the city, and mounted on this 
horse, which is mine, when I saw, seated by the wayside, 
this man, who seemed about to expire. I approached him, 
and inquired whether he had met with any accident. ‘No 
accident has befallen me/ he replied, ‘but I am overcome 
with fatigue, and if you are charitable, you will convey me 
to the city, where I have business. After reaching the 
market-place, I will dismount, praying Mahomet to bestow 
upon him who aided me all that he could desire.’ I did as 
this man requested, but my astonishment was great, when. 


THE SHEIK, BOU AKAS BEN ACHOUR.* 279 


having arrived at the market-place, he bade me dismount, 
telling me that the horse was his. At this strange threat, 
I brought him before you, that you might judge between 
us. This is the matter, in all sincerity, I swear it by 
Mahomet.” 

^ The Cadi made each repeat his deposition, then having 
reflected an instant, he said : 

“ Leave the horse with me, and return to-morrow.” 

The horse was delivered to the Cadi, and Bou Akas and 
the cripple retired, bowing. 

The next day, not only the parties, immediately interested, 
but also a great number of the curious, were present in 
Court. The importance and the difficulty of the cases had 
brought together a large audience. The Cadi followed the 
order of precedence observed on the first day. The taleb 
and the peasant were summoned. 

“ Here,” said the Cadi to the taleb, here is your wife ; 
take her away, she is really yours.” Then turning toward 
his chiaouses, and pointing out the peasant, he said : 

“Give that man fifty strokes of the bastinado on the 
soles of his feet.” ' 

The taleb led away his wife, and the chiaouses gave the 
peasant fifty strokes of the bastinado on his feet. 

The second case was then called up. The oil-merchant 
and the butcher approached. 

“Here,” said the Cadi to the butcher, “here is your 
money ; you did really take it out of your pocket, and it 
never belonged to that man.” Then turning toward his 
chiaouses, and pointing out the oil-merchant, he said: 
“ Give that man fifty strokes of the bastinado on the soles 
of his feet.” 

The butcher carried away his money, and the chiaouses 
administered the bastinado to the soles of the oil-merchant’s 
feet. 


280 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


The third case was now called up. Bou Akas and the 
cripple approached. 

“ Ah ! it is you,” observed the Cadi. 

“ Yes, my lord Judge,” replied Bou Akas and the cripple 
with one accord. 

“ Could you recognize your horse among twenty horses ?” 
inquired the Judge of Bou Akas. 

“ Certainly,” replied Bou Akas. 

“And you?” 

“ Certainly,” replied the cripple. 

“Then come with me,” said the Judge to Bou Akas, and 
they went out together. 

Bou Akas recognized his horse among twenty horses. 

“Very well!” said the Judge. “Go and wait in Court, 
and send me your opponent.” 

Bou Akas returned to the Court, and having executed 
the commission with which he had been entrusted, awaited 
the Cadi’s return. 

The cripple repaired to the stable as’ quickly as his bad 
legs would allow him to go. As his eyes were good, he 
went straight up -to the horse, and pointed it out. 

“ Very well !” said the Judge. “ Kejoin me in Court.” 

The Cadi resumed his seat on his mat, and every one 
waited impatiently for the cripple, who, on account of his 
infirmity, had not yet returned. In the course of five min- 
utes, he arrived out of breath. 

“ The horse is yours,” said the Cadi to Bou Akas. “ Go 
take it from the stable.” Then addressing his chiaouses, 
and pointing out the cripple, he said ; “ Give that man 

fifty strokes of the bastinado on the back.” 

The culprit’s state induced the Cadi, as he was a just man, 
to change the place of application of the punishment. 

Bou Akas went to get his horse, and the chiaouses gave 
the cripple fifty strokes of the bastinado on his back. 


^ THE SHEIK, BOU AKAS BEK ACHOUR. 281 

On returning home, the Cadi found Bou Akas waiting 
for him. 

‘‘Are you dissatisfied?” inquired the Judge. 

“No, the very reverse,” answered the Sheik; “but I 
wished to see you, to ask by what inspiration you render 
justice, for I doubt not that your two other decisions were 
as correct as the one in my case. I am not a merchant ; I 
am Bou Akas, Sheik of Ferdj’ Ouah, who, having heard of 
you, desired to know you personally.” 

The Cadi wished to kiss the hand of Bou Akas, but the 
latter restrained him, saying, “ Hold — I am eager to learn 
how you knew’ that the woman w^as the savant’s wife ; that 
the money really belonged to the butcher; and that the 
horse was really mine.” 

“ It is very simple, my lord,” said the Judge. “ You 
observed that I kept for one night the w’oman, the money, 
and the horse.” 

“Yes, I observed that,” replied Bou Akas. 

“Very well! At midnight I had the woman awakened 
and brought to me, and I said to her, ‘ Eeplenish my ink- 
stand.’ Then she, like a woman who had performed the 
same ofiice a hundred times in her life, took my ink-glass, 
washed it, replaced it in the standish, and poured fresh 
ink into it. I said to myself immediately, ‘If you were 
the wife of the peasant, you would not know how to clean 
an inkstand, therefore you are the wdfe of the taleb.’ ” 

“Be it so,” said Bou -Akas, inclining his head, in token 
of assent. “ So much for the woman, but wliat about the 
money ?” 

“ The money ; that is another thing,” replied the Judge. 
“ Did you notice that the merchant was covered with oil, 
and that his hands were particularly greasy ?” 

“Yes, certainly.” 

“Very well! I took the money and placed it in a vase 
24 -» 


282 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


full of water. This morning I looked at the water. Not a 
particle of oil had risen to the surface, I therefore said to 
myself, ‘ This money is the butcher’s, not the oil-merchant’s. 
If it had been the oil-merchant’s, it would have been 
greasy, and the oil would have risen to the surface of the 
water.’ ” 

Bou Akas again inclined his head. “ Good,” said he ; 
‘‘ so much for the money, but what about my horse ?” 

“ Ah ! that is another thing, and until this morning, 1 
was very much puzzled.” 

“ Then the cripple was not able to recognize the horse ?” 
suggested Bou Akas. 

“Oh yes indeed, he recognized it, and just as boldly and 
as positively as you did.” 

“AVell?” 

“ By conducting each of you in turn to the stable, I did 
not wish to ascertain which one would recognize the horse, 
but Avhich one the horse would recognize. Now, when you 
approached the horse, it neighed; when the cripple ap- 
proached the horse, it kicked. Then I said to myself, 
‘The horse belongs to him who has the good legs, and not 
to the cripple, and I delivered it to you.’ ” 

Bou Akas pondered for a moment, and then said : “The 
L/ord is with you, it is you who should be in my place, 
and I in yours. I am sure, at least, that you are worthy to 
be Sheik, but I am not so sure that I am fit to be Cadi.” 


THE CAMP OF DJEMILAH. 


TN April, 1838, an expedition against Rusceiada, success- 
fully, and above all, ably conducted by General Négrier, 
proved that, from that point, near which the port of Stora 
is situated, convoys could by a march of two or three days 
keep up communication with Constantina. 

In September, Marshal Vallée went in person to Con- 
stantina, and took command of an expeditionary column, 
which was to renew the reconnoissance from Rusceiada to 
Stora. Marshal Vallée laid the first stone of Philippeville, 
and embarked for Algiers ; forming at the same time the 
project of closing the year by a reconnoissance of a route 
between Constantina and Algiers, in order to render feasi- 
ble the ultimate subjugation of all that part of Kabylia 
comprised between the route and the sea-shore. On his 
departure. Marshal Vallée left instructions wdth General 
Galbois. He himself was going to organize an expedi- 
tionary column which was to start from Algiers at the same 
time that General Galbois set out from Constantina. The 
two columns were to join forces at Setif. On the 4th of 
December, St. Barbe’s Day, the two columns marched, one 
toward Algiers, the other toward Constantina.* 

Several days had elapsed since the beginning of the 
season of pouring rains, and scarcely were the columns on 
the march, when the infantry, already bivouacking at the 

* St. Barbe is the patroness of cannoneers. — Trans. 

283 


284 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Camp of Arba, a hard day’s march from Algiers, received 
a countermand, and halted. 

The weather at Constantina was as bad as that at Al- 
giers ; but as the movement of troops could not be coun- 
termanded there with the same facility as in the west, 
they continued to advance. Consequently, on the 4th 
of December, the 3d light-infantry Battalion d’Afrique 
pitched its tents at Mahallah. But from that day until the 
8th, the oflâcer in command of the detachment, — assailed 
by rain and storm, without intelligence from the General- 
in-Chief, in want of provisions and fuel, and having already 
lost two men who died of congestion of the lungs, caused 
by the searching damp cold, and apprehensive of still greater 
disasters resulting from the inaction to which he was con- 
demned in the midst of the muddy pond of his bivouac, — 
summoned a council of war, which unanimously decided 
to strike tents and fall back upon Milah. 

After a march of three hours. Captain Chadeysson, of the 
8d Battalion d’Afrique, encamped his troops near the 19th 
Light-Infantry, from which he obtained some supplies 
of provisions. They were then in a place called Aïn 
Smora. The weather improved, and they managed to send 
forty of the sick to Milah. 

On the morning of the 11th of December, the whole 
expeditionary column had assembled at the bivouac of 
Aïn Smora. The General-in-Chief immediately set it in 
motion, and, on the evening of the 12th, he arrived at 
Djemilah, marching at the head of the cavalry. The 
infantry, brought to a halt by the darkness and by the 
difficulties of the ground, bivouacked some leagues short 
of Djemilah. Twenty musket-shots fired at our bivouac-fires 
announced that we had ceased to be in a friendly country. 

On the 13th, at eight o’clock in the morning, the whole 
division had assembled on the plateau, amidst the ruins of 


THE CAMP or DJEMILAH. 


285 


Djemilah. In the afternoon, the General passed all the 
troops in review, and, grouped on the neighboring moun- 
tains, as on the steps of an amphitheatre, the Kabyles 
"witnesssed the spectacle. 

By evening, the musketry recommenced ; but this time 
the firing was much sharper than on the preceding night. 

On the 14th, before the departure of the expeditionary 
column for Setif, it was decided that three hundred men of 
the Battalion d’Afrique, a detachment of infantry, and 
a party of Engineers, should occupy the position of 
Djemilah. The strongest point on the plateau was chosen, 
and the main column took up the line of march ; leaving 
the garrison little confident in the protection afforded by 
the surrounding ruins, and, least of all, in the friendli- 
ness of the neighboring tribes. 

Let me here say a word in regard to Djemilah, the 
position which it occupies, the ruins which the Romans — 
who sowed the world with ruins — left there. 

Djemilah is situated about thirty leagues to the westward 
of Constantina, ten leagues from Setif, and twenty leagues 
from the sea-coast. Its site is rugged and wild. If one 
may judge from the fragments of architecture, scattered 
over its soil, a tolerably handsome city must once have 
existed there. It was extremely irregular, and was built 
on a very rugged plateau. On the south the city was com- 
manded by a high mountain skirted by this plateau ; which 
on the north slopes toward the valley of the oued Cherf 
and terminates there, two deep and precipitous ravines 
being its eastern and western boundaries. Through these 
ravines floAV two streams, which lose themselves in the oued 
Djemilah. 

The plateau is irrigated by a canal, the waters of which 
are furnished by a stream in a ravine situated at half a 
league to the westward. The canal passed about fifty 


286 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


metres from the place where our troops encamped, and 
furnished power to some mills which were situated at the 
northwest extremity of the plateau. 

Not far from this place, stood a handsome douar ; but on 
approach of our troops the inhabitants fired it, and when 
the troops arrived, it was completely destroyed. This fire 
not only deprived the troops of a valuable acquisition, but 
also afibrded them a sure indication of the temper of the 
population. 

Between the douar and the French camp, was an 
interval of about five hundred metres in area, entirely 
covered with ruins, in the midst of which majestically rose 
a triumphal arch dedicated to Marcus Aurelius Severus 
Antoninus. This arch is in a state of good preservation, 
elegant in form, and especially remarkable for a remnant 
of sculpture of great purity in design. 

At some distance from the triumphal arch, and amidst 
fruit-trees, at that season leafless, rose three beautiful walls of 
freestone, which must once have formed a portion of a temple. 
Two storks had chosen the spot for their dwelling-place. 

On the eastern slope of the plateau, and but a short dis- 
tance from the camp, could be distinguished the remains of 
a handsome theatre, with semi-circular seats rising one 
above another. 

Unfortunately, the picturesqueness of the scene could not 
redeem the insecurity of the situation. The consequence 
was, that scarcely were they left by themselves, than officers 
and soldiers vied with each other in throwing up a wall of 
stones, to shelter themselves, lying down or seated, against 
the enemy’s bullets. Before sunset they were secure from 
a coup de main. 

The sun set, and darkness like a pall settled rapidly 
around them. Then, the Kabyles, excited by the cries of 
their women, spread themselves over the plateau, where, in 


THE CAMP or DJEMILAH. 


287 


superior numbers, they impetuously assaulted our outposts. 
These were too feeble to repulse them, and were compelled 
to fall back upon the entrenched camp. In this manœuvre, 
more than one soldier, pursued and seized by the straps of 
his knapsack, owed his safety to the promptness with which 
he left it in the hands of his pursuer. 

On the 15th, all the approaches to the camp assumed 
the appearance of a market. The Arabs, under pretext 
of selling our soldiers tobacco, figs, and dried nuta, ex- 
amined our defences. When night came, the market was 
transformed into a block-house, and the dealers into 
enemies. 

Our soldiers laid an ambuscade ; but a poor fellow who 
could not help coughing discovered the snare to the enemy. 
The men lying in ambush were fifty in number, commanded 
by Lieutenant Trichardou. A roofless amphitheatre, with 
seats formed of beautiful blocks of freestone, served as 
their place of concealment. 

Warned by the cough, the Kabyles, yelling savagely, fled 
through the ruins of Djemilah. Our soldiers hotly pur- 
sued them, and they did not even attempt to defend them- 
selves. Two Kabyles were killed : not one of our men was 
wounded. During the rest of the night, the Kabyles re- 
turned to the attack, gliding among the stones with a step 
as stealthy as the jackal’s, and, when discovered, uttering 
yells as piercing as those of that animal. 

The musketry, on the side of the Kabyles, was well sus- 
tained, and, on the side of the French, feebly, for they were 
husbanding their powder. The little redoubt, with the 
hostile surge which dashed against its walls, resembled 
everywhere a vessel attacked by boarders. The obstinacy 
of the conflict was such that, for half an hour, it was hand 
to hand, and while the troops charged the Kabyles with the 
bayonet, the latter replied with pistol-shots and stones. The 


288 


TALES OF ALGEEIA. 


Kabyles had no need of going far to get stones. They 
snatched them from the entrenchments, and hurled them 
amongst our soldiers. 

The approach of day put an end to this combat, — one 
of the hottest that had yet been fought, — and the Kabyles 
retired yelling horribly, sending our men, by way of fare- 
well, some random shots, and leaving them five or six 
wounded. 

On the 16th, were repeated the market of the preced- 
ing day and the same inofiensiveness. The two dead Ka- 
byles were exposed in the most conspicuous place ; but the 
object which had been contemplated waâ not attained. If 
these Kabyles, when living, had had either relations or 
friends among the dealers in tobacco, figs, and nuts, the 
latter did not seem to recognize them when dead. 

Night brought on a renewal of the combat, but at long 
range. The former struggle had rendered the assailants 
cautious. 

On the 17th, the market opened just as it had opened 
on the two preceding days. During the evening, the 
column from Setif returned to Djemilah with twenty 
wounded men. On its march, it had destroyed everything 
— men and villages. * 

Half an hour after the arrival of this column, appeared 
three hundred men who had been left at Mahallah. They 
brought a convoy of wine, which they had been ordered to 
wait for and escort. 

In spite of the junction of all our forces, the Kabyles did 
not desist from burning powder during a portion of the 
night. Happily, no one was wounded. 

Notwithstanding the distance to Constantina, and the 
unfavorable season just commencing, it formed a part of the 
General’s plan to hold the position of Djemilah. The 
light-infantry Battalion d’ Afrique, a detachment of artil- 


THE CAMP OF DJEMILAH. 


289 


leiy, and a party of Engineers — in the aggregate six hun- 
dred and seventy men — were detailed for this purpose. 
This garrison was limited to thirty rounds of ammunition 
per man. Fifteen more apiece were granted, but Cap- 
tain Chadeysson, anticipating what would happen, and 
in order to ensure a careful expenditure of his limited 
resources, kept secret the existence of the reserve am- 
munition. 

The main column marched, leaving the six hundred and 
seventy men in the midst of this ancient cemetery of a 
city, and, in the direction which it pursued, one could for 
a long time hear the gradually decreasing sound of mus- 
ketry. The Kabyles were escorting the departing troops, 
and promising at the same time to their comrades who 
remained, a succession of combats of which they had already 
received a specimen. 

The ambulance train of the army took away the men 
who had been wounded on the three preceding nights, and 
left two of theirs who were mortally wounded. 

The rest of the 18th was spent in constructing defences 
connected with the first ones, for the protection of the three 
hundred men of the Battalion d’ Afrique which had arrived 
from Mahallah. All the garrison took part in these labors : 
there was no time to lose. 

On the 19th, the Kabyles who, the previous day, had 
contented themselves with reconnoitring us from the moun- 
tains, descended in crowds, and, about ten o’clock in the 
morning, commenced a discharge of musketry which, until 
sunset on the 22d, never intermitted. In less than half an 
hour, the whole plateau of Djemilah was overrun, and a 
formal Arab siege began. The women not occupied in 
cooking constituted themselves spectators, and animated 
the combatants by loud cries. It was easy to see from the 
excited gestures with which they urged on those whom our 
25 N 


290 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


musketry had driven from our works, that in the event of 
the camp’s being stormed, we should not find in them our 
least vindictive enemies. 

But to these numerous attacks, more noisy than serious, 
our well-commanded troops opposed a silence and discipline 
in which each individual knew that the general safety lay. 
In obedience to their officers, who scanned the least move- ; 
ments of the enemy, the soldiers rarely fired, except when 
the enemy risked himself within effective range. During 
the day, the musketry-fire of the assailants slackened, but 
did not cease. 

With the troops was an Arab Chief, who had undertaken 
to maintain pleasant relations between them and those in- 
habitants of the country who transformed themselves from 
traders by day to warriors by night. This man had had no 
intention of betraying us : he was mistaken, that was all. 
The only point upon which he was not mistaken, was in the 
obstinacy with which the Kabyles would prosecute hostili- 
ties if once commenced. At his solicitation a messenger 
was despatched to Constantina. 

On the 20th, the first streak of dawn revealed to our 
soldiers that the enemy’s forces had doubled since the pre- 
ceding day. The whole population within twenty leagues 
had learned the news, and had rushed to arms. The sur- 
rounding mountains seemed but the seats of a vast amphi- 
theatre, crowded either with enemies who came to attack, 
or wdth spectators who came to witness the extermination 
of the French. At a certain moment, this multitude, 
sweeping down from the mountains to the plateau, came 
rushing upon our parapet ; which the shock alone would 
assuredly have overthrown, if, at the distance of twenty, 
paces, a well-directed fire had not stretched a score of them 
on the ground. The fall of these, and the gleam of our 
bayonets flashing in a sunbeam, decided the Arabs to re- 


291 


THE CAMP OF HJEMILAH. 

treat on the run ; causing more than one bosom to draw a 
longer breath than it had enjoyed for some seconds. 

Meanwhile, this constant flight of our enemies, who in 
reality had only once met our men hand to hand, inspired 
our men with great confidence. 

The 20th, it must be observed, opened propitiously, and 
a hope was not lost, if the messenger reached Constantina. 
btill, peat anxiety saddened the little garrison: they began 
to be in want of water. Fifty metres from the walls ran a 
stream, tolerably broad, but so shallow that they could not 
dip up water. It was therefore necessary, in order to fill 
the cans, each of which contained nine litres, to make use 
of little platters, and this method rendered the task of 
procuring water long and difiicult. Besides, at every sortie 
attempted, it was necessary to engage in a hand-to-hand 
fight, to leave the wounded on the field, and, worst of all, 
to use a great many cartridges. Now, as I have said,' 
the troops were in almost as great want of powder as of 
water. 

He to whom I am indebted for these details was the sur- 
geon of the regiment. Doctor Philippe. 

In this strait, where the alternative presented was of 
going without water, or of getting a single glass apiece at 
so great a sacrifice, the Captain summoned Doctor Philippe 
and questioned him as to how many days a man could dis- 
pense with water. Doctor Philippe replied that, if it were 
possible to give an allowance of brandy every day, a man 
could live eight days without drinking aught else than a 
few drops of it. Such was the confidence of the soldiers 
in their superior officers, that these words had a magical 
effect, and on the promise of three petits verres^ per day, 


* The petit verre is an extremely small glass used for brandy and 
liqueur. — Trans. 


292 


TALES OP ALGEEIA. 


every man made up his mind to forego water, and stand 
firmly at his post. 

The enemy visibly increased in numbers. A close esti- 
mate might have put them at from two thousand five hun- 
dred to three thousand. In proportion to their increase, 
the musketry-fire became heavier and heavier, and rattled 
day and night. Matters grew more and more serious, so, 
during the night of the 20th, a second messenger was des- 
patched to Constantina. 

During the 20th, were commenced entrenchments, for 
the purpose of ensuring the communications between differ- 
ent parts of the camp. AVhile digging in the trenches, a 
magnificent mosaic was found about three feet below the 
surface of the ground. 

On the 21st, several Chiefs on horseback attempted to 
lead a column against the troops ; but it is a diflicult mat- 
ter to induce Arabs to assault in broad daylight. Blows 
with yataghans and with sticks were not equal to the task 
of compelling our working-parties to give way, and the 
camp enjoyed the spectacle of some acts of individual 
bravery. Five or six men who seemed to be Chiefs ad- 
vanced to within sixty or eighty paces of the trenches, vocif- 
erating unintelligible words, which were probably gross in- 
sults or irritating threats. They served as targets for our 
best marksmen, who brought them all to the ground. When 
one fell, twenty rushed forward to carry him off the field, 
giving our soldiers the opportunity for a certain shot. 
More than a hundred Arabs were killed on this occasion. 

On his side, despite our shelter, the enemy, thanks to his 
rolling fire, killed and wounded several of our men. Woe 
« to the rash individual whose curiosity prompted him to 
stand upright in his tent, or behind the breastworks, which 
were only a metre in height ! 

Under such circumstances, and when he possesses the 


THE CAMP OF DJEMILAH. 293 

confidence of the soldier, the relation of the physician to 
him partakes of the providential. So, in spite of their 
sufferings, the wounded supplicated Doctor Philippe not to 
expose his life, upon which the lives of so many depended. 
“Doctor,”^ cried the men as they fell, “don’t be uneasy! 
Wait until night before coming to us, we will bandage 
our wounds with our handkerchiefs. What would become 
of us if those rascals kill you, or wound you dangerously? 
We should all be lost!” Indeed, unless in the case of 
severe wounds which could not wait. Doctor Philippe fol- 
lowed their counsel. 

I have mentioned that two soldiers, mortally wounded, 
had been left by the column which passed through Djemi- 
lah. One of them soon died. The other exhibited great 
fortitude in bearing pain, but not in bearing thirst. Of 
nine litres of water saved by the surgeon, only two re- 
mained. Ptisans and dressings had consumed seven. The 
enemy held on, the length of the siege was uncertain! 
So the poor dying man asked in vain for water, — ^sometimes 
with a yell of rage, sometimes in the accents of despair. 
As he was doomed, as he had to die, it would have been 
criminal to divert for his benefit a part of that water which 
might save the lives of others less severely wounded. The 
surgeon was therefore obliged, not only to cease noticing 
him, but even to abandon him ; but he gave him the last 
lemon in camp, and the unhappy man died with his lips 
glued to the rind, from which he had sucked the last drop 
of juice. 

The two remaining litres of water were destined to lead 
to many such scenes, alas! and, nevertheless, only three 
days had gone by since the troops were short of water. 

To realize the exact situation of affairs, — in order to 
comprehend what followed, — one should have seen how im- 
perious is the soldier’s thirst, when his lips are parched 

25 ■» 


294 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


by tearing cartridges ; especially, too, if he is wounded, 
and if he has lost blood. A wounded man dragged himself 
under the surgeon’s tent, to have his w’ound dressed ; but at 
sight of the bloody water in wdiich Doctor Philippe dipped 
his sponge, he said, forgetting his wound, “ Let me drink, 
Doctor, I beg of you.” 

“But,” replied the Doctor, “if you drink this water, 
there will be none for dressing wounds.” 

“Let me drink, I beg of you, and do not dress my 
wound,” rejoined the man. 

“ But the others ?” suggested the Doctor. 

“Well, let me suck the sponge; the others may suck it 
when their turn comes !” 

This request was granted ; and soon, as the soldiers knew 
that in going to have their wounds dressed, the Doctor 
would let them suck the sponge, they exposed themselves 
to fresh wounds, hoping by this means to assuage their 
thirst. 

In the midst of these distressing scenes a curious incident 
displayed the great intelligence of the soldier. Captain 
Montauban had a dog called Phanor, which, like the men, 
suffering from thirst, concluded to leap the walls, and drink 
at the stream. In his first attempts, the musket-shots had 
terrified him ; but his thirst becoming more powerful than 
his fear, he made up his mind, and amid a storm of bullets 
bounded to the stream. When there, he required neither 
can nor platter, but lapped up a copious draught, and 
joyously returned to camp. Impunity emboldened him, 
and on the following days, he went at pleasure to quench 
his thirst; sometimes twice, sometimes thrice a day, ac- 
cording to whether he felt more or less thirsty. 

Two Zephyrs, who envied the good-fortune of Phanor, 
conceived an idea. It Avas to fasten a sponge to his muzzle. 
Phanor, in drinking, Avas obliged to dip his nose in the 


THE CAMP OF DJEMILAH. 


295 


water, which the sponge absorbed, and he returned to camp 
bringing about a glassful of water, with the aid of which 
the two Zephyrs bore more patiently than their comrades 
the distressing condition of affairs. 

It was observed that, during the night, the heavy dew 
formed little drops on the musket-barrels. The soldiers, 
instead of covering, exposed them, and also the blades of 
their sabres, and by means of licking both, procured some 
relief. 

One of the captains. Captain Maix by name, had pitched 
his tent opposite to that of Doctor Philippe. He acted as 
Assistant-Commissary. As his tent was fully exposed to 
the enemy’s fire, the Doctor requested him to remove to his 
tent, which was better sheltered. It was a poor way to 
influence Captain Maix, so in order to induce him to 
retire, the Doctor proposed a game of piquet. A soldier 
of the company then volunteered to go and throw up an 
entrenchment before the CapfUin’s tent, so that the Captain 
might sleep there without danger ; but at the first stroke 
of the pickaxe, a bullet pierced the soldier’s heart. 

After this occurrence, the Captain was not permitted to 
return to his tent, and remained Doctor Philippe’s guest 
until the end of the siege. 

On the night of the 21st, a third messenger was des- 
patched Jui Constantina, but, by morning, he returned to 
camp. He had not been able to pass the enemy’s lines, and 
had been exposed to so many shots, that it was a marvel 
that he had not been killed. The return of this man cast 
great gloom over the camp ; for his inability to pass the 
Arab lines suggested the fear that the two other messengers 
had fallen into the enemy’s hands, and therefore had not 
been able to fulfil their orders. 

The example of Doctor Philippe was of service. The 
men collected all the playing-cards in camp, with the view 


296 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


not only of baffling tlieir thirst, but of beguiling the death 
which stared them in the face. 

In the night, a fourth messenger was despatched on 
horseback. The horse’s hoofs were muffled in rags. At 
daybreak the man returned. He, like the third one, had 
found it impossible to pass the enemy’s lines. 

The day and night of the 22d were terrible. Already, 
for two or three days, when an ox or a sheep had been bled 
to death, the men had waited impatiently to squabble for 
the blood which fflowed from the artery. During the last 
hours of the night of the 22d, some of them opened veins 
in their arms, to quench their thirst with their own blood. 
A sullen gloom therefore took possession of the besieged 
when, in the morning, they saw their fourth messenger 
return, thus removing their last hope of succor. 

For an instant, there was an idea of striking tents, and 
charging with the bayonet through the swarm of Arabs ; 
but to do that, it would hîive been necessary to leave 
the wounded to the mercy of the enemy, and this 
suggestion, although made by some, did not sound like a 
serious proposition. Nevertheless, they had reached that 
point where perception of the impossibility of doing any- 
thing more, mingles, fatally with the situation. The sur- 
geon had no more water to dress wounds, no more linen for 
bandages. 

Suddenly, toward the northeast, on the mountain of 
Ouled Jacoub, appeared a great troop of horsemen, headed 
by a man wrapped in a white burnoose, who seemed to be 
their Chief. Our soldiers supposed that a reinforcement 
for the enemy was arriving, and, rejoiced at the prospect 
of ending their suspense by a decisive battle, prepared their 
arms. But, to their great astonishment, they perceived 
that at the sight of the Chief, poised like an equestrian 
statue on the highest peak of the mountain, the musketry- 


THE CAMP OP DJEMILAH. 


297 


fire ceased as if by enchantment. That was not enough, it 
seemed, for the Chief made a signal by unfolding his 
ample burnoose, and letting it flutter like a sail floating 
from a mast. Then the Kabyles, men, women, children, 
horsemen began a retreat; then, as if their movements 
were not quick enough, there were seen to leave the side of 
the cavalier thirty horsemen, who with heavy blows with 
the flat of their yataghans, and with cudgels, drove the 
Kabyles before them, as shepherds with their crooks might 
drive the smallest and most docile flock. When the place 
was cleared, this Chief putting his horse to a gallop, and, 
without escort, approaching the camp, pointed to the road 
to Constantina, and said to our -soldiers : “ Go, and if any 
one attempt to bar your passage, say that you are friends 
of Bou Akas.” 

It w^as indeed the Sheik of Ferdj’ Ouah, who having 
learned of the danger which our soldiers ran from one of the 
the twelve tribes acknowledging his sway, had passed 
through the eleven other tribes, and had come, with a single 
wave of his cloak, to drive away the swarm of Arabs, as 
the wind disperses the clouds in the heavens. 

The Triumphal Arch, witness of this admirable defence, 
was that whose stones the Duke of Orléans desired to num- 
ber, in order to reconstruct it in Paris, and make it one of 
the ornaments of the future Place du Carrousel. 


THE BENI ADESSE AND THE HACHACHIAS. 



S in France, in the Middle Ages, and in Spain, even at 


Ai- the present day, Algeria has its gypsies. They are 
called the Beni Adesse, or freckled children. This tribe 
is generally despised by the other tribes, although it, as 
well as the rest, professes Islamism. Its members never 
cultivate the ground ; they are gamblers and horse-jockeys. 
The women wear a peculiar costume, enjoy great liberty, 
give consultations, and tell fortunes with a cornucopia con- 
taining flour, which, by cutting oflT the little end of the 
cornucopia, they pour into the hand. 

The Beni Adesse, like other gypsies, like the Jews, like 
all proscribed or nomad peoples, marry only among them- 
selves. Two witnesses suflice to constitute the validity of 
a marriage, rarely is a Cadi called in to perform the mar- 
riage ceremony. 

I remarked that they are horse-jockeys. The follow- 
ing is one of the tricks that they practise at the various 
markets which they frequent. They station themselves on 
a road by which peasants bring their wares to market, and 
keep a watch on those who are mounted on fine mules. 
The greater the beauty of the mule, the greater the chance 
that the peasant will be followed by another peasant 
mounted on a sorry, sickly mule. On the road, the two 
peasants talk with each other, and soon afterward become 
intimate friends. At this point of time, a Beni Adesse 


298 


THE BENI ADESSE AND THE HACHACHIAS. 299 


approaches the ill-mounted peasant, stops him, walks around 
him, looking at his mule, critically examining it, going into 
raptures with its color, the stiffness of its ears, the clearness 
of its eyes, the delicacy of its head, and finally offering forty 
douros for it. 

The peasant rejects the offer, although it is three times 
the worth of his beast. Then the well-mounted peasant 
joins in the conversation, and, for the price offered, pro- 
poses his own mule, which is worth double the amount of 
the other. But the Beni Adesse has his own notions ; it is 
not that mule which he wants, but the other one. He is 
determined: so is the ill-mounted peasant. However, 
he makes an appointment to meet him at a well-known 
place. If the peasant should change his mind, he can bring 
the mule along with him : the forty douros shall be ready. 

The conversation between the peasants continues. The 
well-mounted one inquires why his ill-mounted companion 
was unwilling to sell his mule at so excessive a price. The 
latter, with tears in his eyes, relates how his mule is an in- 
heritance, or is the gift of a friend. In either case, the 
dying man, or the donor, had made him swear never to sell 
the mule, but at the worst to trade it. The well-mounted 
peasant swallows the bait. Since the other is allowed to 
exchange his mule, he offers his own as a substitute ; and 
as he himself is not restrained by the same motives which 
influence the other, he will go and find the gypsy, and sell 
it to him. After much persuasion, the other consents, and 
the mules are exchanged. The peasant, with the mule 
so highly prized by the Beni Adesse, hastens to the place 
where the Beni Adesse should be waiting. But the Beni 
Adesse is at the other end of the village, where he awaits 
his accomplice, the swapper ; and as the mule is good, he 
mounts behind and goes to a neighboring market to realize 
the money on his late speculation. 


800 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


When, on the other hand, an Arab comes to the market, 
to sell his mule or his horse, it rarely happens that, at a 
quarter of a league from the village, he is not accosted by 
a Beni Adesse, who enters into conversation with him — all 
the while looking out of the corner of his eye at the animal 
of which its master wishes to dispose. In five minutes^ 
time, he knows everything about it. If it is not sound, 
then begins a speculation known by the expressive name of 
chayitage. In proportion to the unsoundness of the animal, it 
takes one,*two, or three douros to buy the silence of the Beni 
Adesse. Thenceforward, from critic, he becomes admirer. 
He follows the mule or horse, extolling its good points and 
admirable qualities ; and as the Beni Adesse is recognized 
as a knowing-one in horse-flesh, the dupe that is sought is 
soon found. 

One day, a peasant was going toward the market at 
Setif. He was going there, either to sell, or to trade his 
horse. The horse was an old one, with a ragged white coat, 
and with so many blemishes and defects, that the usual 
lying-in-wait Beni Adesse did not even take the trouble to 
reckon them. Besides, the peasant artlessly remarked that, 
if some one would give him three or four douros fcr his 
beast, he would willingly part with it. 

“ But, when you no longer have your horse,” replied the 
the Beni Adesse, “what will you do, as it is necessary for 
you to have one ?” 

The peasant slapped his belt. “ Oh,” said he, “ I have 
here thirty or forty douros, which, added to two or three 
others that I shall have from the sale of my beast, will buy 
me a good animal.” 

Upon this, the Beni Adesse proposes that, without going 
further, he will take the horse, and as its owner wants only 
two or three douros, he will pay two out of hand, and be- 
sides, will stand his friend in the purchase of another horse. 


THE BENI ADESSE AND THE HACHACHIAS. 301 


The bargain is struck ; the two douros are paid ; the peas- 
ant dismounts from his horse ; the Beni Adesse mounts it ; 
and chatting they pursue their way. 

Scarcely is the Beni Adesse in the saddle, when the horse 
limps. The peasant thanks his stars that he got rid of the 
animal at the very moment when a lameness which still 
further diminished its value was about to reveal itself. But 
the Beni Adesse is an honest fellow, and, although this is a 
case where he might declare the transaction void, yet he 
sticks to the bargain. 

On entering Setif, the Beni Adesse meets a friend, whom 
he requests to take his horse to the stable. As for himself, 
he is bound in honor not to leave his new friend, but to 
help him choose a five-year-old horse without blemish. 
Consequently, the companions set about finding this eighth 
wonder of the 'world. Two or three times the peasant is on 
the point of making a choice, but at a word from his guide, 
he discovers a great defect, and continues his search. At 
last, they reach a place in the market where a chestnut 
horse is behaving restively in its hobbles. 

“ I think this will suit me,” says the peasant. The Beni 
Adesse sliows some signs of disapproval — the owner of the 
horse is a sharp fellow. The Beni Adesse therefore . care- 
fully examines the horse. The result of his examination 
shows that the horse is beyond the age, but that it cannot 
be more than eight or nine years old. Putting that aside, 
it has no blemish, and the peasant will be safe in buying it. 
The price asked is twenty-five douros. The Beni Adesse 
exclaims against it. It is too dear, they will go elsewhere, 
they can do better. If it were twenty douros now, he could 
not say but that he might close with the offer. Twice the 
horse-dealer lets the buyers walk away, but the third time, 
he recalls them : it is a bargain at twenty douros cash. 

The peasant bestrides his new purchase. The horse is 
26 


302 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


SO skittish that he can hardly keep his seat. The peasant 
bends his course toward his douar, while all along the road 
the horse neighs, paws, throws up his head, rears, and in 
fine, gives evidence of the greatest strength and mettle. 
On reaching the village, it is then no longer evidence of 
strength and mettle that the animal gives, but of intelli- 
gence. Without being guided by the peasant, it takes the 
road to his house ; without being shown the stable, it enters 
of its own accord. The peasant congratulates himself 
more and more on his acquisition. 

While the rider unsaddles the horse, his son, who saw 
him go by at full trot on a new horse, runs up, and con- 
gratulates him on his purchase ; which is the more fortu- 
nate, because on the next day he has a long journey 
to make. 

To-morrow comes: the weather is bad, it is going to 
storm. JBut what of that ? with an easy rein, and so fast a* 
horse, one can soon reach his destination. The peasant 
starts, but, from the moment of his departure, he can make 
nothing of his nag. Its neck is curveless, its eye dull, and 
its head heavy. Switch and spur are of no avail, the horse 
can scarcely trot; and if by dint of blows, it still moves, it 
may be said less to trot than to lumber along with its 
whole body. 

To complete his misfortune, rain falls, — as the horseman 
had foreseen, — as rain falls in Africa, in torrents. The rain 
produces a very singular effect. Just as in mountainous 
regions, what is rain in the valleys becomes snow on the 
peaks, so the rain, in wetting the tips of the horse’s ears, and 
the ridge of its neck, silvers them both. It seems to the 
peasant that his horse is undergoing a physical as well as a 
moral transformation. He dismounts, walks around his 
horse, plucks a handful of grass, and rubs dowm the animal. 
Like the dress of Monsieur Planard’s shepherdess, the coat 


THE BENI ADESSE AND THE HACHACHIAS. 303 


of the quadruped becomes entirely white, and the stupefied 
peasant recognizes his own beast. 

They had put ginger under its tail, rubbed its ham- 
strings with turpentine, and soaked its barley in a bottle of 
wine. Besides, they had put on it a coat of paint, and 
converted it from a white horse into a chestnut one. But 
the barley had digested, ^he turpentine had evaporated, the 
ginger had fallen out on the road, the rain had washed oflT 
the chestnut, which, unfortunately, was not a fast color. 
The peasant then understood the intelligence of his horse, 
which, unaided, found the stable. 

Besides the Beni Adesse, there exists, I will not say a 
tribe, but a fraternity, a community, of Free-Masons. It is 
that of the Hachachias, or smokers of hashish. 

The Hachachia is under obligation to smoke hashish all 
day, live a life of celibacy, and make a vow of poverty. 
Armed with an iron-shod stafiT, the only weapon which he 
is allowed to carry, and accompanied by dogs, which he 
'must regard as his equals, he is obliged to pass the night in 
hunting the hedge-hog. 

Hashish, which is merely pulverized hemp-seed, is 
smoked in earthen pipes of the size of a thimble. Two or 
three pipefuls sufiice to plunge the Hachachia into ecstasy, 
that is to say a delight unknown to other mortals. 

The Hachachia eats but little, often not at all. When 
he eats, his great delight is to dine with his companions on 
the hedge-hog killed by him. One of his triumphs is to 
return to his village, after having killed the animal. In 
this case he is bound — for among the Hachachias there is a 
rule for everything — to lead his dogs by an iron chain held 
in the left hand, to hold his staflT in the right hand, and to 
carry the hedge-hog in a linen bag on his back, in such a 
manner that the quills of the animal shall pierce the stuff. 
When pursued by the dogs, the hedge-hog flies to its 


304 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


burrow, and tlie Hachacbias then unearth it with their 
staffs. When the burrow is open the dogs draw out the 
animal. 

The Hachachias, whenever they are not asleep nor in 
ecstasy, are engaged in fêtes. He who works at any 
trade whatever is obliged to bring the product of his 
labor to the community. He mjjst, although going bare- 
legged and barefooted, although wearing wretched clothes, 
devote all his means to ornamenting the collars of his 
dogs. 

It is a remarkably peaceable body of men, entirely 
devoted to hashish and hunting. They have a king who 
rules over them for one year. He is always the one who 
during the preceding year killed the greatest number of 
hedgehogs. 

Tchackar, one of the Beys of Constantina^ the prede- 
cessor of Achmet, put the Hachachias under a ban, and 
had them hung from the muzzles of the cannon protruding 
their barrels from the city walls. They were led to execu- 
tion with the cords of their hashish-pouches and pipes 
passing crosswise over their breasts. 

At Constantina, by the way, executions held high-court. 
The Turks, in consideration of their nobility, were bow- 
stringed in the Casbah, the Arabs were beheaded in the 
market-places, the Jews were almost always burned. 
During our sojourn in Constantina, we were quite inti- 
mate with General Bedeau’s chiaous, who had been the 
chiaous of General Négrier, and also of Achmet Bey. 
Under General Bedeau, he enjoyed a sinecure. General 
Négrier gave him something to do more than once; but 
under Achmet Bey, the poor man had had hard work. In 
a single night, he had been obliged to cut off eighty-three 
heads. With all his skill and desire to perform his duty, 
he could not finish the task before daylight. At six o’clock 


THE BENI ADESSE AND THE HACHACHIAS. 305 

in the morning, he left the Casbah, and, like Augustus, 
paused to watch some children playing top. That shows 
the goodness of heart possessed by the chiaous Ibrahim, 
the headsman. 


THE ZEPHYRS. 


A t two o’clock one day we arrived at El Aroucli. My 
astonishment was great, when I saw approaching a 
deputation composed of a dozen non-commissioned officers 
and soldiers belonging to the 3d Battalion d’Afrique. The 
fact of my passing through town had got bruited abroad, 
and they came to beg me to be present at a special theatri- 
cal performance. As it was known that I wished to reach 
Philippeville that very evening, the performance w^ould 
take place by daylight. 

It was some time before I understood the precise nature 
of the honor rendered, and that of the performance which 
I was requested to witness. It was as a dramatic author 
that I was received. The performance at wffiich they 
begged me to be present was to be composed of two plays, 
“La Fille de Dominique,” and “ Farinelli.” The actors 
were soldiers and non-commissioned officers of the 3d Bat- 
talion d’Afrique, otherwise called Zephyrs. 

Let me here describe this essentially French creation, 
known in Africa, and even in France, by the name of 
Zephyrs. 

'In 1831, the Government ordered the Battalions d’ 
Afrique to be organized from all the men under arrest for 
misdemeanors not involving military degradation. These 
battalions were always to be stationed at the oiitposts. 

The 1st Battalion took the name of Jackal ; the 2d, that 
of Zephyr; the 3d, that of Goldfinch. Of these three 

306 


THE ZEPHYRS. 


307 


names, only one became popular. This was the name of 
Zephyr. 

The Jackal Battalion constructed the entrenched camp 
at Tixeraïn, two leagues from Algiers. That place was 
then our extreme outpost. The Zephyr Battalion con- 
structed the camp at Birkadem. The Goldfinch Battalion 
constructed the camp at Douaira. The three battalions 
might perhaps have amounted to an effective force of six 
thousand .men. 

It was at this time that their eccentricity revealed itself. 
Always employed at the outposts, as was their destination, 
and attached to all hazardous expeditions, the Zephyrs had 
a thousand opportunities of distinguishing themselves ; and 
it is but just to say, that they allowed none .to escape. 
They first signalized themselves at Makta, in 1835 ; then 
at the pass of Mouzaïa, in 1836 ; then at the first siege of 
Constantina, where they made a night assault on the Bridge 
Gate and Biver Gate. They signalized themselves at the 
second siege, where Captain Guinard and fifty men were 
blown up. One hundred volunteers, all Zephyrs, had taken 
part in the assault. Captain Cahoreau was killed. A 
Zephyr named Adam was the first man to penetrate to the 
principal street of the city, and he received decoration as a 
reward for his daring. 

They were Zephyrs who held the Camp of Djemilah, the 
marvellous defence of which I have related. They were 
Zephyrs who held Mazagran — one hundred and twenty-five 
men against six thousand. 

This last feat is so incredible that the English dispute it. 
“It is very simple,” said Captain Le Lièvre; “if they doubt 
the fact, it is only necessary to let us begin again.” 

In 1836, came an order allowing every Zephyr who 
should signalize himself, or avoid punishment for a certain 
term, to quit the disciplinary companies, and enter a regi- 


308 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


ment of the Army of Africa. But one thing had not been 
foreseen. This was that in his affections the Zephyr would 
substitute his adopted country for his native land. Africa is 
to the Zephyr the Promised Land. When he has once set 
foot in Algeria, the Zephyr cannot leave it. Returned to 
France, after the expiration of his term of enlistment, he 
relinquishes his liberty, in order to see again his well- 
beloved Africa, under whose sky his reputation has ripened. 
Returned to France with his regiment, the discipline there 
is irksome to him. He regrets the play, the road-building, 
the excitement under fire ; he regrets even the chilly rain, 
and the broiling sun. Then he breaks the stock of his 
musket, sells a pair of shoes, or deserts. A disciplinary 
sentence returns him to the Zephyrian category. He is 
sent back to Africa, where he again finds the wandering 
and eccentric mode of life which renders him the gypsy of 
the Army. 

In 1834, General Huvivier, at that time a lieutenant- 
colonel, got a pack of hounds, whose duty, by night, was to 
guard the block-houses, and by day, to aid in the recon- 
noissances made for the purpose of affording the herds the 
benefit of pasturage. Twenty of the dogs were appro- 
priated to guarding the block-houses, and ten to recon- 
noissances. They were trained by a Zephyr, under whose 
guidance they went out, and who hallooed them in hunting 
the Arabs. He was called the Colonel of the Hounds. 

This Colonel never lived long, as one can readily con- 
ceive. He was a target for shots, and yet, when one man 
was killed, ten presented themselves to supply his place. 
One night the Arabs laid an ambuscade near a cemetery. 
In the morning, in the course of the usual reconnoissance, 
the hounds came upon it. A bitch named Blanchette dis- 
covered it. She sprang at the throat of the Arab who was 
in advance. The Arab severed one of her paws with a 


THE ZEPHYRS. 


309 


stroke of his yataghan, but Blanchette knew the anecdote 
about Cynægirus,* and would not let go her hold for a 
trifle. The Arab,* half-throttled, fell into the hands of the 
French. Blanchette underwent amputation, and she now 
lives in Bougiah as a government pensioner. 

Bougiah is to the Zephyr almost a Holy City, as 
Mecca, Medina, Jiddah, and Aden are to the Mussulman. 
It was Bougiah which witnessed one of the most curious 
feats reserved for the biography destined to transmit to 
posterity the feats and tricks of the Zephyrs. This feat 
consisted in the sale of the very guard-house where a 
Zephyr was confined. 

The guard-house was a charming new house, barred at 
the windows, and with a door which was at the same time 
beautified and strengthened with iron studs. It was a very 
pleasant abode, at a time when the Kabyles made incur- 
sions into the very town. 

A colonist, just landed, approached this house, and ex- 
amined it with a look so covetous as to leave no doubt of 
his wish to become its proprietor. Thereupon, a window 
opened, a Zephyr appeared, and, through the bars, the fol- 
lowing colloquy ensued : 

“This is a charming house, soldier,” observed the 
colonist. 

“Yes, not so bad,” replied the Zephyr. 

“To whom does it belong?” 

“ Parbleu ! To the man who lives in it, it strikes me.” 

“ Is it yours ?” 

“It is.” 

“ Do you own, or rent it ?” • 

“ I own it.” 


* An Athenian who, at Marathon, would not relinquish his hold 
of one of the enemy’s vessels. — Trans. 


310 


TALES OF ALGEKIA. 


“ Plague on it ! you are lucky ; there are not many sol- 
diers lodged like you.” 

“ I had it built from a legacy which I chanced to receive. 
Labor, you know, is not high in Algeria.” 

“ How much, then, did this little palace cost you ?” 

“ Twelve thousand francs.” 

Give me a short time, and I will manage to get you a 
profit of two thousand francs on it.” 

“Well, well! perhaps we can come to terms. The fact 
is that I have met with a misfortune which compels me to 
sell.” 

“ A misfortune ?” 

“Yes, my banker has failed.” 

“ Why, that’s lucky — ” 

“What?” 

“ No, no ! I mean to say that that is very unfortunate,” 
said the colonist, retrieving his mistake. 

“How much will you give in cash?” resumed the 
Zephyr. 

“ One thousand francs, and the balance — ” 

“ Oh ! the balance — ^that’s all the same to me ! I’ll give 
you as much time as you want for the payment of the 
balance.” 

“ Will you say five years ?” 

“ First-rate ! say five years, ten years. I’m in want of a 
thousand francs, that’s all.” 

“ Then it is a bargain ; I have just a thousand francs 
with me.” 

“Wait for me at the wine-merchant’s,” said the soldier. 

“ Very well, I will meet you there.” 

“ But, mind you,” resumed the soldier, “ on your way past 
the corner, just inquire for and send me the big light-com- 
plexioned man who is the locksmith of our regiment. I 


THE ZEPHYRS. 


311 


must tell you that my .comrades, by way of a joke, have 
locked me in, and taken away the key.” 

“ I will send him,” replied the colonist. 

The colonist started on the run, to await the arrival of 
the proprietor of the house, at the wine-merchant’s shop ; 
not forgetting, of course, to send him the locksmith. 

The locksmith went and the state of ajffairs was explained 
to him. The business in hand was the division of the thou- 
sand francs among the prisoner, the locksmith, and the 
sentinel. In five minutes the sentinel was won over, and 
the door was open. In half an hour the agreement was 
discussed, settled, signed, and the Zephyr pocketed his 
share of the thousand francs. 

Two hours afterward, the colonist was engaged in mov- 
ing into the guard-house. An officer, passing with a patrol, 
obseryed that people were unloading a whole set of furni- 
ture at the door. The door being open, he entered. The 
colonist was directing the nailing up of shelves. The 
officer glanced around with an air of stupefaction. At 
last he ejaculated, 

“ What the deuce are you doing here ?” 

‘‘What am I doing?” replied the colonist; '‘pardieu! 
don’t you see ? I am moving in here.” 

“You are moving in — where now?” 

• “ Into my house.” 

“ What house?” 

“ Why, this one, to be sure.” 

“ This house is yours, is it ?” 

“It is.” 

“ How do you make that out ?” 

“ Why, because I bought it.” 

“From whom ?” 

“ From the owner.” 

“ Where was he ?” 


312 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


‘‘ He occupied it.” 

The officer looked at the soldiers. They had for some 
time been glancing at each other, and had from the first 
understood the matter of which he had just obtained a 
glimmering. 

“ And what has become of the owner ?” continued the 
officer. 

“ That does not concern me,” said the colonist carelessly, 
resuming the arrangement of his shop. 

“How does it not concern you ? Was he not locked in?” 
demanded the officer. 

“Oh, yes! Would you believe it, his comrades had 
played him a trick, by locking him in ; but I sent him the 
locksmith of the regiment, a big light-complexioned fellow, 
and he met me at the wine-merchant’s shop, where we 
executed the contract.” • 

“ Before a notary ?” inquired the officer. 

“ No, by our signatures ; but in the course of three 
months, I shall have the contract made valid.” 

“ And the man received the money ?” 

“ A thousand francs, cash.” 

The officer could not refrain from shouting with laughter. 
The colonist looked at him with astonishment, saying, “ Do 
you doubt it ?” 

“ Well, upon my word !” 

“ See, here is the paper,” urged the colonist. 

The officer read it, and found it to be an agreement, in 
due form ; including a receipt for a thousand francs, and 
an acknowledgment of thirteen thousand francs as still 
due. The colonist had bought of a Zephyr, under arrest, 
the guard-house of his regiment. 

The afiair was brought before the court at Bougiah, 
which had not the heart to punish the author of this rare 
feat of legerdemain. The Zephyr was acquitted, and he 





1 



“Yes, 


but it’s a 


rat with a trunk, 


Page 31B. 


nothing less.” 



THE ZEPHYES. 


313 


returned to his quarters, under triumphal arches raised in 
his honor by his comrades. 

The Zephyr knows all sciences by intuition. He is a 
naturalist, archæologist, and trainer of animals. He is the 
born purveyor of toads, lizards, snakes, chameleons, locusts, 
newts, fouette-queues, jerboas. Whoever comes to Africa 
to make collections of animals may apply to him. When 
nature is petty, he aids her ; -when species are deficient, 
he invents them. It was a Zephyr who invented the rat 
with a proboscis. 

I am* about to relate what is almost incredible, but what 
is, nevertheless, a well-known fact in Algeria. 

At the time that the Scientific Commission explored the 
province of Bona, the 3d Battalion of Zephyrs composed 
the garrison of the towm. One morning the Chief of the 
Commission saw a Zephyr approaching his house, and 
carrying a cage in which frisked a little animal that was 
the object of the most delicate attention from its owner. 
The curiosity of the savant was aroused by the loving 
way with which the Zephyr addressed the animal in the 
cage ; so he called out, “ What are you bringing me there, 
my friend 

“ Oh, Colonel,” — the Chief of the Scientific Commission 
was a colonel, a brilliant man whom we all know, — “a 
little beast not bigger than my fist, but you never saw any- 
thing like it.” 

“ Hold, let me see it.” 

“ Here it is. Colonel.” 

The Zephyr delivered to the ofiicer the cage containing 
his treasure. 

“What! why it is a rat that you have brought me!” 
exclaimed the Colonel. 

“Yes, but it’s a rat with a trunk, nothing less.” 

“ How ! — a rat with a trunk ?” 

0 


27 


314 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“Look at it, examine it, take a magnifying glass, if you 
cannot see it with the^aked eye.” 

The Colonel looked at it, examined it, took a magnifying 
glass, and recognized a rat of the ordinary species ; but, as 
the Zephyr had said, this rat. had a trunk, a trunk attached 
to its nose, and placed somewhat like the horn of the 
rhinoceros, a trunk gifted with the power of motion, and 
almost with intelligence. In other respects, the creature 
was identical with the ordinary rat. But the trunk with 
which this one was adorned, conferred on it a special, an 
ideal value. 

“ Humph, humph !” muttered the savant. 

“ Aha !” echoed the Zephyr. 

“ What do you charge for your rat ?” 

“ Colonel, you know its value could not be estimated, 
but to you, it shall be oue hundred francs.” 

The Colonel would have given a thousand to obtain this 
precious subject. He examined it afresh. It was a male. 
“ Would it not be possible to get a female?” he asked.. 

“Plague on it!” exclaimed the Zephyr, “you are in 
conceit of the thing. I understand ; you want to get the 
breed. Give me a, hundred francs for the male, and I will 
try to get you a female.” 

“ How soon ?” 

“ Ah ! bless me ! it is a very sharp animal, very cunning. 
The disappearance of this one must have given the alarm 
to the whole tribe. I will not answer for getting you one 
before fifteen days, or three weeks.” 

“ I give you a month,” said the Colonel. 

“ Can I count on a hundred francs for a female ?” 

“ Just as you get a hundred francs for the male.” 

“ You shall have a female.” 

“ Here are the hundred francs.” 

“ Thank you. Colonel.” 


THE ZEPHYRSi 


315 


The Zephyr pocketed the hundred francs. Three weeks 
afterward, he brought a female rat with a trunk. “ Here, 
Colonel,” said he, “ here is your beast. But I tell you she 
gave me trouble !” 

The Colonel examined the beast. His satisfaction was 
at its height, he had a pair. He was for a while an object 
of envy to his companions. Monsieur Ravoisier could not 
sleep a wink, and Monsieur Delamalle fell sick. They 
asked all the Zephyrs whom they met to procure them rats 
with trunks. The Zephyrs exchanged glances and answered, 

Don’t know what you mean.” 

The rat with a trunk was at a premium. Upon its reap- 
pearance, the first one sold for two hundred francs. Then 
this very rare animal began to get common. Scarce a day 
passed that there was not for sale a rat with a trunk. The 
price fell to a hundred francs, to fifty, to twenty-five ; the 
receipt for making rats with trunks was known. 

With but little difference, it is the same receipt as that 
given in the “ Cuisinière Bourgeoise” for making a dish of 
stewed hare. But whereas, in making a dish of stewed 
hare, only one hare is necessary, to make a rat with a 
trunk, it is necessary to have two rats. The tip of the tail 
of one of the rats is grafted on the nose of the other ; the 
union of the parts is secured by a plaster; the animals 
are swathed in such a manner that the dressing cannot be 
disarranged; in fifteen days they are released, and the 
thing is done. Thenceforward, the tail continues to adhere 
to the nose of one of the rats, as a spur sticks in the head 
of a cock, and you have a rat with a trunk. But rats 
with trunks do not produce young — at least not with 
trunks. When one wants to have trunks, he must graft 
them. 

So much for Natural History, let us turn to Archæology. 

A Swiss banker, a great antiquary, arrived in Africa, 


316 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


and commenced a search for Roman ruins. He had 
already made several important acquisitions, when a 
Zephyr brought 'him a stone which appeared to have 
served as the slab of a tomb. The stone was engraved, 
and the inscription, which was in a state of perfect preser- 
vation, seemed to denote, by the shape of its letters, that it 
dated from the Augustan Era. The following was the 
inscription ; 

c. ELL 

A. EI. u. s. P- o. 

LK. A. M. 

IN 

YEN. . . . T 

A V 

I 

T. E 

T. NON. D. 

EC. 

O. E. A. 

BI 

T 

UE. 

The savant grew paler and paler for eight days, as he 
pored over the inscription, which he had procured for a 
mere song — eighty francs, I believe. The paler he became 
the less could he fathom its meaning. Finally he thought 
proper to consult Berbrugger, who examined the stone 
attentively, and shook his head. “ From whom did you 
buy this antique?” he inquired of the Swiss. 

“ From a soldier.” 

“From a Zephyr, was it not?” 

“ It seems to me that it was.” 

■“ Very well ! would you like me to tell you the meaning 
of this inscription ?” 


THE ZEPHYRS. 


317 


‘‘ You will oblige me by doing so.” 

• “ It reads thuS : Cellarius inventavit polkam^ et non decora- 
bitur ; literally translated, Cellarius invented the polka, 
and he will not be decorated.” 

The banker, although a banker and a Swiss, was an 
intelligent man. He considered the modern inscription 
much more curious than if it had been ancient. He car- 
ried it to Zurich, where it occupies the most conspicuous 
place in his cabinet. 

The Zephyr is not always a rogue, and sometimes gives 
buyers the worth of their money. In 1836, in the cam- 
paign of Mascara, a Parisian, as a looker-on, accompanied 
the column of troops. At one of the bivouacs, in the hope 
of surprising the enemy the men were forbidden to light a 
fire. The Parisian, exposed to the night air and the dew, 
and without other covering than his cloak, exclaimed : “ I 
would gladly give twenty-five louis for a house !” 

“How would you like it. Monsieur?” said a Zephyr, 
approaching him ; “ made of wood or of canvas.” 

“ Of wood,” replied the Parisian. 

“ And you will give twenty-five louis on delivery of the 
house?” 

“ I have them all ready.” 

“Very well,” said the Zephyr. 

In the course of an hour, two ammunition- wagons w'ere 
demolished, and the house was made. 

On the retreat from Constantina, two Zephyrs were 
squatting, Moorish fashion, on some corpses which they had 
placed side by side, when an ^fiicer reproached them for 
desecrating the bodies of their comrades. “ Captain,” 
replied a Zephyr, “ it does not make them either cold or 
warm, but it keeps us from catching cold in the head.” 

Other Zephyrs, to avoid getting wet, lay down in the 
tombs of Koudiat Aty. Their feet sticking out, they were 
27 * 


318 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


supposed to be dead ; but now and then they entered pro- » 
test against such a belief by crossing their legs. Others, 
again, tried to drag burnooses from under the dead. But 
sometimes the burnooses were tenanted by the living, 
whereupon the Zephyrs who had attempted the pilfering, 
apologized by saying that they were hunting for beetles, or 
by asking whether Gruyère cheese was sold there. 

One of the bravest captains of the army. Captain 
Guitard, is a captain of Zephyrs. One day he heard that 
an Arab saint had on horseback ascended to the minaret 
of Biskra, and had succeeded, without accident, in accom- 
plishing that almost impossible feat. He immediately 
ordered his horse saddled, and made the ascent. From 
that time forward, he was never called anything else but 
St. Guitard. 

At the bivouac of Bas Oued Zenati, there was suddenly 
seen walking, not, as in Macbeth, a thicket of brushwood, 
but a thicket of thistles. The Colonel of the Hounds, hav- 
ing noticed that the bivouac was entirely destitute of fuel, 
had gone with his pack to procure some. On that day, 
only the Zephyrs were able to make soup. 

A Zephyr once put a huge sponge into his canteen, and 
then started for a wine-merchant’s shop, where he had the can- 
teen filled from a cask. When the canteen was full, and the 
Zephyr seemed to be about to pay for the wine, he requested 
to taste it, and pretending not to like it, emptied it into the 
cask. But the sponge which remained in the canteen, re- 
tained a portion of the liquid. It was squeezed, and after 
two or three trials, yielded a bottle of wine costing only the 
trouble of squeezing it out of the sponge. 

Under command of Captain Du Potet, one hundred 
Zephyrs built in eight days a thousand métrés of road, at a 
cost of half a franc per metre. That amounted to a thou- 
sand francs in one week. Now, it so happening that the 


THE ZEPHYES. 


319 


money for tliis work fell due at the same time as the pay- 
ment of fourteen hundred francs of arrears, the hundred 
men found themselves the possessors of two thousand four 
hundred francs to squander. The consequence was that 
they indulged in a splendid feast. 

Six Zephyrs ate at the house of a German sutler. After 
having, without once rising from table, breakfasted, dined, 
and supped, a delicate stomach among them felt the need of 
something more. Unfortunately they had eaten everything, 
except a laying hen, which began to cackle just as they 
were deliberating as to their last course. Up jumped a 
Zephyr, at once, to run to the hen-house. 

The German had had about enough of his guests ; be- 
sides, he set some store by his hen. Consequently he sprang 
for his double-barrelled gun, and covered the Zephyr. But 
the latter, turning around, coolly said : “ My friend, per- 

haps you will kill me, perhaps you will kill two of us ; but 
the four others will kill 5 ^ 0 , and then eat the hen. You 
had better let us begin there.’’ 

Mine host thought the advice good. He replaced his 
gun on its rack, and the laying hen was eaten, skinny as 
it was. 

In 1833, some time after the capture of Bougiah, when 
the civilian officers accompanying the troops still lacked 
the mere necessaries of life, they were obliged, among vari- 
ous other things, to have recourse to the military barbers 
to get shaved. Amongst the barbers, the one belonging to 
Captain Plombin’s company was the most in vogue. 

At the time, soap was so very scarce, that this barber, 
fearing to run short of the commodity, conceived the idea 
of placing three or four patients side by side in the prin- 
cipal street of Bougiah, and soaping their chins in turn. 
AVhen the chins were soaped, he had two sous apiece 
counted out to him. This was the indispensable price. 


320 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


After receiving the two sous, he handed the precious frag- 
ment of soap to an associate, who immediately disappeared. 

It was all very well for him who sat at the head of the 
row, and whose chin remained moist until the end of the 
shaving, but however short the operation, the other chins 
were dry by the time that it had finished. The customers 
called for the associate-barber who had the soap, they 
shouted themselves hoarse, they swore, but the man with 
the soap could not be found. They must needs take a dry 
shave or go unshaved. Choosing the first alternative, they 
were skinned ; the second, their shaving cost four sous in- 
stead of two. 

In 1836, Monsieur , steward of the public domain, 

obtained. a Zephyr as an orderly. The residence of the 
official was set off by a garden, and the . garden itself was 
embellished with two enormous fig-trees. They would 
have been something worth having for one who liked figs, 

but Monsieur preferred the Animal Kingdom to 

the Vegetable Kingdom. He ^vas extremely desirous to 
stock these two trees with a certain number of chameleons. 

Chameleons are not a rare thing in Africa. The usual 
price for them is one franc apiece. Monsieur in- 

structed his Zephyr to procure for him, at that price, as many 
of them as he could find. Chameleons were not wanting ; 
every day the Zephyr brought three or four of them, and 
the three or four rogues were loosed, sometimes on one fig- 
tree, sometimes on the other. 

But after the fifth or sixth day, the business had become 
easy to the Zephyr. In the night he leaped the garden- 
wall, gathered three or four chameleons from the fig-trees, 
and the next day carried them to his master, who without 
suspicion continued to pay the stipulated price. 

Still, after a while. Monsieur thought that his 

chameleons did not increase proportionally to the purchases 


THE ZEPHYES. 


321 


which he made. He expressed his surprise to the Zephyr, 
who calmly replied: “You know, Monsieur, that the 
chameleon takes the color of objects near which it is placed. 
Living always in these two fig-trees, your chameleons have 
become green, and you mistake them for leaves.” 

This reply set Monsieur to thinking, and that 

same night he hid himself in the garden, saw the Zephyr 
spring over the wall, climb the fig-trees, and make his usual 
picking. The next day the Zephyr was turned out of 

doors. Monsieur passed his chameleons in review, 

and recognized the fact that, although he had bought 
sixty, he had never possessed more than ten. 

In 1839, a few days after the expedition to Djemilah, the 
Zephyrs were sent to construct an entrenched camp at a 
place called Tourmiettes, on the route to Constantina. 
The route was not safe ; several assassinations had been com- 
mitted through the canvas of tents. Besides, this was not 
the only objection to that sort of encampment. Canvas 
is not a very warm shelter during winter, and winter was 
coming on apace, and it promised to be sefere. The 
Zephyrs therefore conceived the idea of constructing a sub- 
terranean camp. Seven or eight hundred of them dug an 
immense burrow, the outlet of which they closed with a 
grass which the natives call, diné. Then, as beer happened 
to be in general use among them, the thought occurred to 
them that the jugs might be made useful. The jugs were 
broken, the necks of some of them passed through the 
bottoms of others, and thus chimneys were contrived. 
When made fast with mortar, they fulfilled the purpose for 
which they were intended. The result was, that one ignor- 
ant of the existence of this subterranean camp would have 
sought in vain for the fifteen or eighteen hundred men 
earthed like foxes ; whose presence was revealed only by 
the columns of smoke issuing from the ground. 

0 ^ 


322 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


In 1843, a column of troops composed of the 3d Bat- 
talion d’Afrique, the 61st Begiment of the Line, artillery, 
spahis, and Engineers, under command of Colonel Her- 
billon, was returning from an expedition to Hannenchas, 
on the frontier of Tunis. The column halted at Guelma. 

During the halt, the commanding officer of that little 
post, a captain lately arrived in Africa with his wife, for- 
bade the troops to enter his camp, unless they were 
accompanied by non-commissioned officers. Offenders were 
to be at once conducted to the guard-house. 

In spite of the severity with which these orders were exe- 
cuted, numerous cases of disobedience occurred. One day 
two Zephyrs, entering the camp without permission, took 
a walk, after having been drinking so hard that they 
were obliged to lean on each other for support. On see- 
ing them, the Captain flew into so great a rage that he 
himself rushed out to arrest them. But, observing the 
temper of her husband, and the condition of the two sol- 
diers, the Captain’s wife stopped him, begging him not to 
expose hiftiself to injury. 

The Zephyrs witnessed this amicable contest, and feeling 
sure that the pantomime concerned them, resolved to run. 
Unfortunately, on account of the condition of their legs, it 
was easier to resolve than to perform. One of them, never- 
theless, took a start and gained ground ; but the other, like 
the wounded one of the Curatii, could follow him at a dis- 
tance only, so he soon heard the Captain’s step close behind 
him. Resolved to face the danger, he turned, and awaited 
the attack, with the rocking gravity peculiar to drunken 
people. 

“Why are you here?” shouted the Captain, “and by 
whose authority ?” 

“ Captain,” replied the Zephyr, at the same time taking 
off his cap, “ I am here by order of the General.” 


THE ZEPHYRS. 


323 


“ Of the General T’ 

“ Yes, Captain— of the General.” 

“ What General ?” 

“ The General commanding the column.” 

“ The General sent you here, you say ?” 

“It was the General who sent me here, I say.” 

“For what purpose?” 

“Ah ! you see. Commandant ” 

“ I am not commandant, I am captain.” 

“ Excuse me. Captain, I did not mean to insult you.” 

“ Cut your story short — the General sent you here ?” 

“ Yes, he sent me.” 

“ For what purpose ?” 

“He knows that I am a savant — that I am familiar with 
the sciences of topography, geography, and hydrography. 
He sent me here to draw a plan of the camp and vicinity.” 
“Ah, indeed!” said the Captain, ironically. 

“Yes, he sent me to do that,” coolly replied the Zephyr. 
“And your comrade?” resumed the Captain. 

“My comrade?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, my comrade is with me.” 

“No, he is not, for he has run away.” 

“He has not run away.” 

“Bah!” exclaimed the Captain. 

“No,” said the imperturbable Zephyr, “I discovered that 
I had lost my compass, and I sent him to look in my bag, 
to see if it is there.” 

The Captain could not help laughing, and the soldier 
was spared a visit to the guard-house. 


THE ZEPHYR THEATRE. 


HE Zephyrs of El Arouch were under command of 



A Captain Plombin, who had ho guard-house, and who, 
moreover, did not need one, having punished only three 
men in the course of as many months, and these for only 
small breaches of discipline. 

He was a brave officer, a great observer, and very clever. 
A year or two before we made his acquaintance he had 
had his arm shattered by a ball. The wound was serious, 
amputation seemed impending, when Doctor Baudin, one 
of our most distinguished military surgeons, set the arm 
with complete success. Since then. Captain Plombin’s 
broken arm is shorter than the other, but he can use it per- 
fectly well. 

It was Captain Plombin who introduced me to the com- 
pany of actors, which was composed of the following per- 
sons : Midroit — manager. Félix Fontaine — ^first lover. 
Auguste Bonneau — principal parts. Henry Hirselin — first 
comic actor. Auguste Carres — the old gentleman. Jules 
Gauthier — second lover. Joseph Trion — second comic 
actor. Jean Lecointre — first lady. Jules Perrine — “De- 
jazet style.’’ Edmond Saintot — musician. 

I was straightway conducted to the theatre. All the 
actors were under arms. The intention was to present 
me with selections from “La Fille de Domi:|^i(^ue,” and 
“Farinelli.” * J 


I have never seen anything more curious thîüthese plays, 
324 


THE ZEPHYR THEATRE. 


325 


this theatre, these actors. Monsieur Auguste Bonneau, 
who acts the “ Lafonts,” was really a remarkable actor, who 
would not have been out of place in any theatre in Paris. 
Monsieur Henri Hirselin acted the part of a cobbler, with 
admirable comic effect. To conclude. Monsieur Jules Per- 
rine sang his great song of “ La Fille de Dominique’’ with 
remarkable taste and spirit. In all this, one could recog- 
nize those intelligent children of Paris, who, wherever they 
go, transport their native land. 

That which was perhaps more curious than the actors, 
were their arrangements, their foyer and stock. All 
these, as the case might be, had been by them designed, 
built, cut out, sewed. To have made the female costumes 
would have defied our best mantua-niakers. 

At the time of our arrival, the annual receipts of the 
theatre amounted to thirty thousand francs. This prosper- 
ous condition of affairs was the result of an original invest- 
ment of one hundred francs, derived from a stoppage on 
the soldiers’ advance money, on account of two or three 
stray parcels of cartridges. 

One should have seen with what skill laces were cut o|it, 
and dresses embroidered. The dresses were painted, and 
the laces were made of paper. At a distance, however, it 
was impossible to detect the imposition. 

All the stock, which at present must be considerable, 
comes from the receipts. The actors, having their parts to 
learn, and their rehearsals to make, are exempt from duty 
when the battalion is full; but as, at the time when we 
visited El Arouch, three companies were absent, the actors 
mounted guard like ordinary mortals. 

The company at El Arouch treasures the memory of 
Monsieur de Salvandy. When Monsieur de Salvandy was 
passing tl^rqygh the place, they had a special performance, 
28 


326 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


and the Minister of Public Instruction left, I believe, five 
hundred francs for the actors. 

On that very evening the play was interrupted by an 
alarm. A sentinel fired at an Arab thief. In an instant 
all were on foot. The vicinity was explored, the dead body 
was picked up, and as it was perceived that the thief had 
been alone, the affair was over. 

On another evening, there was a real attack. In the 
midst of the play, the long roll was sounded. They had 
been performing “ Capitaine Roquefinette.” Actors and 
spectators seized their muskets, and ran toward the firing. 
The “ first lady” tucked her dress into the belt of her car- 
tridge-box and performed prodigies. 

This “ first lady” was really worth seeing. When the 
play was over, I mounted the stage to pay my compliments 
to the actors. I talked to him, hat in hand, and offered 
him my arm to descend the stairs, or rather ladder of the 
foyer. The illusion was perfect, and I caught myself treat- 
ing him as if he had been a woman. 

In their usual attire, that is to say when the “ first lady” 
SiT^d the “Dejazet” are dressed as Zephyrs, they wear their 
hair in bandeaux under their military caps. This gives 
them a little coquettish air which becomes them admirably. 

At Setif, superior comedy is played, — I came through 
habit near saying, French Comedy, — and the actors of El 
Arouch, like people of real merit, frankly acknowledge the 
theatre at Setif to be better than their own. The “ first 
ladies” of Setif are, or rather were in 1836, Marchand and 
Drouet. Drouet, a charming young fellow with a fair com- 
plexion, played the parts of heroines, and made a great hit 
in “ La Chanoinesse.” Marchand was a sergeant. These 
last-mentioned actors belonged to the 19th Light Infantry, 
in which were over eight hundred Parisians. ^ . 

The company had also possessed a ver} remarkable 


THE ZEPHYR THEATRE. 


327 


Ainal. Unfortunately, this ^‘Arnal,” whose name was 
Rolla, and who was the clerk of the post, deserted to the 
enemy, on account of being overslaughed in a matter of 
employment. 

In 1836, there was a theatre at Bougiah. The inhabit- 
ants had for a long while requested to have the perform- 
ance of “ L’ Auberge des Adrets,” and for a long while that 
particular play, impatiently waited for, had been promised 
to them, when one morning they saw the much-desired piece 
announced on the bills. 

The delay in producing it had been occasioned purely by 
the difficulty of obtaining two gendarme uniforms. But, 
at last, on the previous evening, “the first comic actor” and 
the fiist lady, as the most likely to bring the negotiation 
to a successful issue, had been despatched to the corporal 
of the gendarmery, and by dint of some high-flown speeches 
had procured the loan of two complete costumes. These 
costumes being in possession of the Zephyrs, and they, when 
they get hold, being very tenacious, nothing could longer 
postpone the performance of the play. The theatre was 
crammed, the corporal and seven or eight of his men 
for whom he had requested free tickets, were in the centre 
of the parquette, all was going on well, and Homeric 
laughter was dispelling spleen, even that of the gendarmes, 
when there came the scene of the arrest of Kobert Macaire 
and Bertrand. 

One can readily believe that, as the distinguished actors, 
Frédérick Lemaître and Serres, are accustomed to resist 
violently, the two worthy Zephyrs who took their parts, 
wished, not only to imitate, but, if possible, to outdo them. 
So they engaged in a desperate struggle, in which the cor- 
poral began to see that his clothes were in great danger. 
Instantly his cries of distress mingled with the laughter, 
the bravos, and the clapping of hands ; but as if the cries 
28 


328 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


had endowed the two rascals with renewed strength, they 
redoubled thair efforts, and the tail of one of the gendarme 
uniforms remained in the hands of Robert Macaire. At 
this sight, the corporal no longer shouted, he howled, and 
as his howls, echoed by the six or eight gendarmes who 
surrounded their chief, were interfering with the play, they 
were all put out for maiking a disturbance. 

When the corporal and his men had been expelled, the 
clothes, one can readily believe, were torn to tatters, and 
every one, spectators and actors, returned home with a 
scrap in his button-hole. 

The Chief-Commissary, however, who had been present 
at the play, and had seen what happened, condemned the 
company to pay for the uniforms of the gendarmes. A 
plaintive poster consequently announced that the proceeds 
of the next performance would be devoted to the reimburse- 
ment of the gendarmes. The theatre was crammed. 

About five o’clock in the afternoon, we took leave of our 
worthy Zephyrs, who came to escort us to the outskirts of 
the camp. I promised them that, when I saw Monsieur de 
Salvandy, I would remember them to him. 


THE CITY OF ALGIERS. 


AN arriving at Algiers we had an important question to 
^ settle regarding the Véloce. 

Scarcely had we had time to breathe on the occasion of our 
first visit. Chance brought it about that Marshal Bugeaud, 
ignorant of the precise time of our arrival, had gone to 
made a tour in the interior, and was absent. To avoid 
losing time, I had assumed the responsibility of taking the 
Véloce, or rather of being taken by the Véloce, as far as 
Tunis. This determination, which all the remonstrances 
in the world would not have been able to make me relin- 
quish, had caused great scandal in the Algerian Chief- Ad- 
ministration. But as I had declared that if they did not 
let me have my vessel, I would instantly return to France, 
they had, for fear that I would carry out my threat, come 
into my wishes. 

It was all the easier for me to show my teeth at these 
gentlemen, the clerks, because, having been invited by his 
lordship the Duke of Montpensier to be present at his mar- 
riage, I had not in the slightest degree drawn upon the public 
funds in making the journey in Spain, which we had made at 
our own expense. The credit of ten thousand francs which 
Monsieur de Salvandy had opened for me was therefore intact. 
If I left the credit with the agent of the Department of Pub- 
lic Instruction, and returned to France, that would have been 
the end of the matter. I should not on that occasion have 
28 * 329 


330 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


seen Algeria at the expense of the Government, but at some 
other time I should have seen it at my own expense, as I 
had already seen Italy, Germany, Spain, and Sicily. Mar- 
shal Bugeaud therefore was to decide between me and I 
forget now w'hat naval commissary, with whom I had had a 
crow to pick when I reached Algiers. 

On setting foot on shore I inquired whether Marshal 
Bugeaud had returned. At the moment that I was 
seeking this information, he in passing was pointed out 
to me. It is somewhat my practice, in circumstances like 
those in w’hich I found myself, to take, as they say, the bull 
by the horns ; I therefore went straight up to the Marshal. 

I had seen him on a single occasion at the house of Mon- 
sieur d’ Argout : about ten years had intervened. He had 
talked about Algeria, where he had served, but of which 
he was not then Governor. He had talked about it not 
only as a soldier, but as a philosopher and a poet. 
Scarcely, amid this conversation, — which had remained in 
my memory, but which I thought, must certainly have 
escaped his, — had I the opportunity to attract his attention 
by two or three questions which I addressed to him. But 
men of high station have a certain nook in their memories 
whence they can recall this sort of visions. On perceiving 
me the Marshal recognized me : “ Ah ! ah !” said he to me, 
’tis you. Sir captor of vessels ! Peste ! you don’t stand 
on ceremony about taking two hundred and twenty horses 
for your excursions 1” 

“ Monsieur le Maréchal,” I replied, “ I have calculated 
with the Captain that, since I left Cadiz, I have cost the 
Government eleven thousand francs in coal and food. 
Walter Scott, in his voyage to Italy, cost the English 
Admiralty one hundred and thirty thousand francs. The 
French Government therefore still owes me one hundred 
and nineteen thousand francs.” 


THE CITY OF ALGIERS. 331 

“Then why did you not make the tour of the Medi- 
terranean at once ?” 

“ Because I had the folly to promise that my voyage 
should not last longer than seventeen days. It took nine- 
teen days ; but that was not my fault, because foul weather 
detained us for forty-eight hours in the port of Collo.” 

The Marshal saw that I had made up my mind to give 
him another Mazagran or another Djemilah. He extended 
his hand to me. 

“ Come, come !” said he ; “ peace ! You took the Veloce, 
that was all right — let us say no more about it. Will you 
dine with me to-morrow?” 

“ Monsieur le Maréchal,” replied I, “ I have with me my 
son and four friends.” 

“Very well! Bring your son and your four friends, 
parbleu !” 

“ Thank you. Monsieur le Maréchal.” 

“ Come early. I am to invest with authority a Sheik. 
He is a singular man, very powerful in his tribe, a real 
Arab, a pure-blooded Kabyle, who served as guide to his 
lordship the Duke of Orléans when he passed through the 
country of the ’Bibans.” 

“ Oh yes ! El Mokrani, is it not ?” 

“ You know him ?” 

“ By name.” 

“ They think of us, then, on the other side of the Medi- 
terranean ?” 

“ You should say that they don’t think of anything else. 
It is one of the privileges of Africa, you know, to make a 
noise in the w^orld. ‘Quid novifert Africa,’ said the Komans 
of Scipio’s time. Very well, we are the Romans, at least 
with reference to Africa.” 

“ Do you not consider, too, that she is well worth think- 
ing about ?” 


332 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


“ Africa ! why she is the Promised Land.” 

“ She is the bestowed land,” retorted the Marshal — “ be- 
stowed by Providence on France. Make her known to all 
those paltry lawyers who haggle about a hundred thousand 
francs for us, when we give them a world ; tell them that it 
needs but scratching her twice a year to make her yield 
two harvests. They may believe me about it — me, who am 
a laborer, a peasant, a planter of potatoes. Have you seen 
Metidjah ? have you seen Blidah ?” 

“ I have seen nothing yet,” I replied. 

“Very well ! go see them then, and tell the people over 
yonder, all those imbeciles that talk about Algeria without 
knowing anything about her, tell them that I have land for 
three millions of men ; only mine is the only system — mili- 
tary colonists, military government, military courts. Ah ! 
here is General de Bar, one of your friends. It was he 
who prevented me from sending after you with the Etna to 
get back my Veloce.” 

“ Ah ! that would have helped you very much ! With 
the Véloce we would have captured the Etna, and that 
would have been one vessel more for us, and two vessels less 
for you.” 

“Come, come!” said the Marshal, “let us drop the 
subject, it appears that, on this point, I shall not get the 
advantage of you.” 

“ A bargain. Monsieur le Maréchal,” said I. 

“ Be it so,” rejoined the Marshal ; “ I shall not refer to 
the subject again.” 

I thanked General de Bar for having taken my part so 
efficiently, and I then took leave of the two old soldiers, as 
I was in haste to rejoin my companions, whom I had left in 
Marine Square, and who were engaged in seeking lodging 
for themselves and for me. 


THE CITY OF ALGIERS. 333 

They had stopped at a hotel, called the Hôtel de Paris, 
opened eight days previously. 

I was engaged in dressing, when my door opened, and 
gave entrance to an officer in bourgeois costume, who 
planting himself before me, with his legs apart, and pla- 
cing his hand on my shoulder, said : “ Eh ! parbleu ! Here 
you are at last, my dear friend, I have been waiting for 
yoù these ten years. This morning the Veloce was sig- 
nalled, and I said to myself, ‘ Good, I have got him at 
last.’ ” 

I looked at this officer who had been waiting ten years 
for me, this friend who notified me that he was going to 
take possession of my person ; and it was not only impossi- 
ble for me to fix him, but even to recall where I had seen 
him. 

“ Good,” said he ; I see that you do not remember me.” 

I stammered some commonplaces. 

“You do not remember me, it is perfectly clear,” he 
resumed. “It’s not astonishing. Since I saw you, I have 
been made general, and I have married.” 

“ In a word ?” — 

“ Joussouf.” 

I gave a shout of joy. Dear Joussouf! I, too, for ten 
years had thought with joy of seeing him once more. I 
had seen him, and had not recognized him — ^not because he 
was a general, not because he was married, but because in 
lieu of the charming Franco- Arabic costume with which 
he had come to Paris, he wore a frightful bourgeois dress, 
which made him look almost as ugly as we did. 

Recognition having taken place, I belonged to Joussouf 
for all day. A carriage was waiting for us at the door, we 
got into it, and the coachman drove offi 

Joussouf was living at Mustapha Superior, in a little 
Arabic house, which his wife, a charming Parisian trans- 


334 


TALES OP ALGERIA, 


ported to Africa, had had the good taste to furnish in the 
Arab fashion. From the windows of the house the view 
extended over the whole gulf; on the left, over a portion 
of the city, and on the right, over the plain of Metidjah. 

Joussouf, that man terrible in face of the enemy, that 
general, adventurous as a free-lance of the Middle Ages, 
that hunter, hunter of men and lions, that spring which 
flies and kills,— as Marshal Bugeaud described him in speak- 
ing of him to me, — is in private life one of the most sweet, 
the most refined, the most fascinating natures that I have 
ever known. I have never seen any person do the honors 
of his own house so well as Joussouf does. When one is 
ten minutes at his house, one is no longer at his house, he 
is at home, the host and the house belong to him. 

We were to eat for dinner a gigantic couscousou, and, 
while waiting for dinner, to visit on horseback and by car- 
riage the environs of Algiers. The four horses of the 
General were placed at the disposal of the gentlemen of 
the party. Giraud, Desbarolles, Alexandre, and Maquet, 
the centaurs of the party, took possession of them. Mad- 
ame Joussouf did the honors of her caleche to her hus- 
band, Boulanger, and me. 

Just as in all Arab cities, the most charming sights in 
4;he environs of Algiers are the coflfee-houses and the foun- 
tains, situated always in the most picturesque and the best- 
sheltered places ; the former, with their smokers reclining 
nonchalantly, served by waiters not less nonchalant than 
themselves ; the latter, with their resting pilgrims, horses, 
asses, and camels. Cofiee-houses and fountains were shaded 
by palms and sycamores, the most beautiful trees in crea- 
tion, which so admirably set ofi* an African landscape. 

In two hours we returned. The dinner-table, laid in the 
middle of the court-yard, was covered with flowers, and 
ornamented in the centre with its gigantic couscousou. 


THE CITY OF ALGIERS. 


335 


The cook of Madame Joussouf had made of the Arabic 
couscousou what w^e have made of Italian macaroni, an 
article as superior to its original as the carriage of the 
sainted Charles the Tenth was to the ox chariot of King 
Pharamond. 

For after dinner, Madame Joussouf reserved the dessert 
of the dessert. This was a walk in the gardens and a visit 
to her menagerie. It was from these gardens that had 
come all the flowers and fruits that appeared on table. 

As for the menagerie, it was composed of an antelope, 
two gazelles, and two ostriches. The antelope with its 
horns rising in the form of a lyre, its wondering eyes, and 
its enormous head, appeared to me very grotesque. The 
gazelles, with their slender legs, their bright eyes, and their 
restless ears, sustained admirably the reputation which has 
been made for them by the Arabic poets. But the ostrich 
is decidedly the most fantastic animal ever described. 

In the interest of the ostriches and their proverbial appe- 
tite, Madame Joussouf had requested us to provide our- 
selves with bread. Each of us had brought enough to 
satisfy the hunger of a man. With a gulp, the general 
supply was exhausted, without the strange animals’ appear- 
ing to have lost in the least their gluttony. One of us 
wished to return to get some bread from the house, but 
Madame Joussouf stopped him, saying, “It is needless; 
this animal is very easy to keep. He eats a good deal, it 
is true, but he is not dainty — ^you shall see.” 

Thus speaking, she rolled up one of her gloves and pre- 
sented it to the ostrich, which swallowed the glove just as it 
had swallowed the bread. We all felt in our pockets, and 
made an offering of our gloves. Each of the ostriches swal- 
lowed four pairs of gloves, and without the least eflbrt, just as 
some drinkers toss off a petit verre of brandy. Only a lump 
about as large as the flst showed where the beak and neck 


336 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


join, glided all along the neck, and disappeared in the 
stomach. The journey may have lasted about a minute. 
At intervals of five or six seconds, we offered four gloves to 
one of the ostriches. This interval was represented by a 
space of five or six inches between the lumps, which glided 
together down the neck with the regularity of cars running 
along a railroad. 

A gojjd pin, two or three inches long, which Madame 
Joussouf had in her hair, and which one of the ostriches 
pecked out adroitly when its mistress least expected, passed 
down its throat almost as easily as the gloves. The only 
thing that seemed to give these frightful gluttons some 
difficulty in swallowing was the handkerchief of Alexan- 
dre, in which he had put a dozen knots, and had then 
presented an end of it to each of the guests. Each did its 
best, and the two beaks met. At this point, there was for an 
instant a contest which we thought about to end in a duel ; 
but the male, with the usual gallantry of our sex, yielded, 
and the knotted handkerchief, like a snake full of knobs, 
went down the throat of the other ostrich to join the gloves 
and the gold hair-pin. 

During all these experiments, Desbarolles had kept a 
little apart. We questioned him in regard to his indifihr- 
ence to the study of the interesting animals which had 
just given us an audience. Desbarolles confessed that he 
was alarmed for his hat. His fear was so well grounded, 
that we would have pardoned it in Bayard, the knight 
without fear, so we pardoned Desbarolles. 

We returned to the Hôtel de Paris, delighted with 
Madame Joussouf ’s ostriches, which formed the burden 
of our conversation during the evening and a portion of the 
night. 


CONTRAST BETWEEN THE ARAB AND THE FRENCHMAN. 


OINCE the period when it fell into the hands of the 
^ French, Algiers has greatly changed. Save the 
Mosque, which has held its ground, all the lower part of 
the city is French. The only remains of the old city 
are to be found in proportion as one ascends the rising 
ground. 

As a matter of course, on the second evening of our 
sojourn in Algiers we made an excursion on the soil of the 
Prophet. It was on a beautiful night in December : even 
December nights are beautiful in Algiers. We had with 
us an Arab turned Frenchman, and a Frenchmen turned 
Arab. 

A prediction of a Mussulman saint who lived in the six- 
teenth century says : “ The Franks, O Algiers ! shall tread 
the pavements of thy streets, and thy sons’ daughters shall 
open to them their doors.” Never was prophecy more 
thoroughly fulfilled. How is it that the Moorish families, 
rich under Turkish dominion, have fallen into abject poverty 
under French dominion? No one but myself, perhaps, 
thought of asking this question. I asked it, and this is wFat 
was answered : 

The conquest of the country deprived the Moorish fami- 
lies of nothing. Under Turkish rule the Moors were the 
proprietors of houses, and they received the rents ; owners 
of cattle, and they sold the meat ; owners of lands, and 
they sold the harvests. When the French arrived, the 
29 P 337 


338 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Turks left the city, then the Koloughs, the children of 
Turks and Moors, then the Moors followed. On leaving 
the city, whence their ow^n will drove them forth, they sold, 
not their lands and houses, — no one would have wished to 
buy them, — but their effects, their trinkets, and all at a 
third of the real value. The trinkets which they did not 
sell in Algiers, they carried away with them, melted, and 
sold wherever they lived. 

But after two or three years of voluntary exile, the ex- 
iles began to perceive that their portable resources were ex- 
hausted. They made inquiries, and learned that no harm 
had befallen the people w^ho had remained in Algiers, so 
they returned, and recovered their lands and houses. Con- 
fidence was in some degree established, but they still sold 
their property, and at low prices. In 1832, a house cost 
six hundred francs. He w’ho had bought the house at six 
hundred francs, sold it for twelve hundred, then, with the 
twelve hundred, he bought one which he sold for twenty- 
four hundred. Thus immense fortunes were made between 
the years 1830 and 1835. 

They who returned during this first period were those wdio 
had fied but ,a short distance ; later came those who had 
fied to Tangier, Tetuan, Constantina; and Tunis. The 
former began gradually to sell a little dearer, then they 
took in the idea of renting, and they rented their houses. 
In consideration of the rent, the leases were renewable every 
three years. But the tenants, accustomed to the ways of 
Europe, took care to have it put in writing that the re- 
newal was to be at their pleasure. 

Finally returned the people who had fled to Smyrna, 
Cairo, and Constantinople. They did as the others did, 
rented their houses, sometimes even in’ perpetuity. For a 
bonus in cash the Turks made all sorts of concessions. 
This arose from their conviction that, at any moment, the 


CONTRAST BETWEEN ARAB AND FRENCHMAN. 339 

Prophet might restore them to favor, and drive the French 
out of Algeria. But the Prophet was not in a hurry, the 
bonus was soon spent, and it was impossible to wait for 
rent-day. They allowed a discount, gaŸe three years for 
one year, six years for two, twelve for three— what odds 
did it make ? must not the F rench some day quit Algeria ? 
The French did not quit Algeria, and the people were 
ruined. 

Hate exists between people and people. It is maintained 
by contrast. Between the Arab and us all is contrast. 
Would you like to see some of the differences? they are 
strange. Christ promises his disciples a spiritual Paradise. 
Mahomet promises his followers a sensual Paradise. 

The Frenchman can marry but one woman. The Mus- 
sulman can marry four women, and can have as many more 
in his harem as his fortune will allow him to take. 

The French woman walks with uncovered face, and ap- 
pears continually in the streets. The Arab woman is a 
prisoner in her own house, and if she goes out, can only go 
veiled. 

The Arab, if there is trouble in his house, restores peace 
with the cudgel. The Frenchman who strikes a woman is 
dishonored. 

The more wives an Arab has, the richer he is. One wife 
is often enough to ruin a Frenchman. 

The Arab marries as early as he can, the Frenchman as 
late as possible. 

The first question asked by a Frenchman on meeting a 
friend, is as to the health of his wife. To ask an Arab 
about his wife is one of the greatest insults that can be 
offered him. 

AVe drink wine. AVine is forbidden to the Arabs. 

AA^e wear tight garments, they w^ear loose ones. 

AV'e say that the head should be kept cool, and the feet 


340 


TALES OF ALGERIi^P. 


warm. They say that the head should be kept warm, and 
the feet cool. 

We salute by taking off the hat, they by pulling the 
turban down on the brow. 

. We are laughers. They are grave. 

We fasten the door of the house. They raise the canvas 
of the tent. 

We eat with a fork, they with their fingers. 

We drink often while eating. They drink but once, and 
that, after eating. 

Our fasts are light. Their fasts are severe. From the 
break of day, — from the time when one can distinguish a 
white thread from a black one, — until evening, the Arab 
can neither drink nor eat, smoke nor take snuff, nor kiss 
his wife. 

We confine the insane. The Arab regards them as 
sacred. 

We have, in general, more love than respect for our 
parents. The Arab can neither seat himself, nor smoke, nor 
without permission speak in the presence of his father, nor can 
a younger brother do so in the presence of his elder brother. 

We love travelling for pleasure’s sake, the Arab travels 
only on business. 

We always know our age. The Arab is always ignorant 
of his. 

It is a point of honor with us not to recoil a step in bat- 
tle or in duel. The Arab flies without dishonor. 

We eat the meat of animals that have been knocked on 
the head. The Arabs eat only the meat of animals that 
have been bled to death. 

Historical painting is with us an art. The painting of 
the human form is with them a sin. 

We worry ourselves about everything. The Arab does 
not worry himself about anything. 


CONTRAST BETWEEN ARAB AND FRENCHMAN. 341 


We believe in Providence. He is a fatalist. If some 
great misfortune happens, “ hahoun Erhi” says he — the 
will of God. 

An Arab once said to me : “ Put a Frank and an Arab 
in the same pot, boil them for three days, and you will have 
two different soups.” 

One thing which will not tend to reconcile them to each 
other is our way of doing justice. For example, there are 
two adjoining properties. They have well-known dividing 
lines, known to every one. Very well! In virtue of this 
public knowledge, an Arab imagines that, he has nothing 
to fear. Instead of building on his own land, a European 
builds on that of the Arab, his neighbor. The Arab, who 
has a good mind to take the law into his own hands, does 
not do so, because such a proceeding is expressly forbidden ; 
he waits upon the Chief of the Arab Bureau of the city 
or the country, and states his case. The Chief of the Bu- 
reau, with his own eyes, satisfies himself of the goodness 
of the Arab’s title ; but as it is necessary to act discreetly 
in the matter, he writes to the Frenchman, that it is doubt- 
less by mistake that he has built on ground not belonging 
to him. The intruder receives the letter, but as he is not 
obliged to be polite, he does not even take the trouble of 
replying. 

The Arab, observing that his first step has been fruitless, 
and that his neighbor continues to add new courses of stone 
to the building, returns to the Chief of the Bureau, and 
renew's his complaint.. The Chief of the Bureau answers 
him, that he has done all that he can do in the matter, and 
refers him to the Justice of the Peace. 

The latter cites the two parties before him, to see if the 
difference can be amicably arranged ; but the Frenchman 
fails to appear. The magistrate satisfies himself that the 
Arab is right, and orders the European to quit the premises. 

29 


342 TALES OF ALGEEIA. 

The Arab returns home content, and, at the evening chat, 
says that there is justice in the French Government, and 
that the Cadi has ordered the intruder to quit the premises. 
Consequently, as the Arab is unaware of the existence of 
the law of ejectment, and, besides, cannot realize dis- 
obedience to the order of a Cadi, he calmly awaits the re- 
moval of the European, an occurrence which, in his opinion, 
cannot fail to take place. Eight days pass. The Arab, in 
his simplicity, believes that some punishment will surely 
overtake him who obeys neither the military Government 
nor the civil law. 

But, as time rolls on, and the house continues to go up, 
and his neighbor is not punished, he returns to the Arab 
Bureau, and relates, as an unheard-of thing, that the 
Frenchman, despite the notification of the Chief of the 
Bureau, despite the decision of the Cadi, not only has not 
vacated the premises, but still continues to build. The Arab 
asks for advice. The Chief of the Bureau counsels him to 
address himself to the Court of Common Pleas. The Arab 
applies to that Court, where he learns that, before every- 
thing else, he must provide himself with a lawyer. The 
Arab starts in quest of this unknown object, finds it, and 
inquires how he should proceed to regain his property. The 
lawyer answers that nothing can be easier, that the case is 
excellent, but that he must first pay a retaining-fee of 
twenty-five francs. The complainant replies that he will 
call again. He presents himself at the Arab Bureau, to 
inquire whether he really ought to give the twenty-five 
francs demanded. The Chief of the Bureau replies that it 
is in fact the custom. The complainant asks how it hap- 
pens that he is obliged to give twenty-five francs to a man 
whom he does not know, and to whom he owes nothing, be- 
cause another man, whom he scarce knows better^ has seized 
upon his land. The Chief of the Arab Bureau tries to 


CONTRAST BETWEEN ARAB AND FRENCHMAN. 343 

think of a good reason, and finding none, replies, “ It is 
customary.” 

When he in whom the Aral) has entire confidence tells 
him that the thing is customary, the Arab raises the stone 
under which he hides his money, takes out five douros, car- 
ries them to the lawyer, and counts them out one by one, 
accompanying each one with a sigh. The lawyer then 
enters suit against the European, in the Court of Common 
Pleas. 

Let us suppose that the interpreter is good, and that the 
Judge knows what place is referred to, and that he renders 
a decision which requires the defendant to vacate the 
premises. The Arab has gained his suit. It is true that 
the decision has cost him five douros, but what of that ? — 
the Aga has decided in his favor, the Cadi has decided in 
his favor, the Medjèles have decided in his favor. He has 
had three decisions in his favor ; the first, before the Chief 
of the Arab Bureau; the second, before the Justice of the 
Peace ; the third, before the Judge of the Court of Common 
Pleas. It is therefore morally impossible for him not to 
regain possession of his land. He makes this remark at 
the evening gathering ; adding, that it is a fact that the 
Sultan of the French regards all his subjects in Algeria as 
his children, Mussulman as 'well as French. 

During fifteen days, the Arab awaits the withdrawal of 
the European, but the European remains; the Arab 
expects the work of building to stop, but the house gets 
higher and higher. On the sixteenth day, an appeal is 
entered against him. He takes to the Arab Bureau the 
paper written from left to right, instead of being written 
in his w^ay from right to left, written in small instead of in 
large text, and asks what that means. The Chief of the 
Arab Bureau replies that his neighbor excepts to the 
decision, and appeals to a new Court. The Arab asks 


344 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


* 

what he ought to do. He must go to Algiers. But to facili- 
tate his proceedings, the Chief of the Arab Bureau gives 
him a letter to a lawyer who practices in the Court of Ap- 
peals. The latter, living in the metropolis, charges eighty 
francs as a retaining fee — sixteen douros, instead of five. 
The Arab is staggered at this new claim. Nevertheless, he 
makes up his mind, takes sixteen dourôs from his pocket, 
presents them to the lawyer, and commends the suit 
to him. 

It is impossible to lose the suit, so of course the lawyer 
gains it. The intruder is ordered to restore the land, and 
to pay the costs of the suit. The Arab is about to recover 
his land, and be reimbursed for his expenses. He returns 
home and waits. 

The house continues to go up, the workmen are roofing. 
As for his disbursements, instead of getting them, the 
Arab receives another stamped paper. It is an appeal to 
the Court of Errors. The new suit continues for a year. 
The Arab, being engrossed by the proceedings, does not sow 
his land, and in consequence loses his harvest. He must 
give one hundred and fifty francs to the lawyer whom he 
employs in the Court of Errors, not eighty francs, which 
was what he gave to the lawyer in the Court of Appeals ; 
and besides, he must travel to Paris if he wishes to prosecute 
■the suit. He abandons house and land, and flies, declaiing 
that the Christians, both as a government and as private 
individuals, are leagued to despoil him. 

At the end of three years, the European has his tenure 
made valid, and finds himself the lawful owner of house 
and ground. 

If justice had been rendered by the Turks, this is what 
would have happened. The Arab would have chosen some 
market-day, and made his complaint before the Caïd. 
The Caïd would have sent the parties before the Cadi. 


CONTRAST BETWEEN ARAB AND FRENCHMAN. 345 

The Cadi, on the spot, would have had the ancients of the 
country brought before him for the purpose of ascertaining 
from them which of the two claims was just. The anciente 
would have given testimony, the robber would have 
received fifty strokes of the bastinado on the soles of his 
leet, and that would have been the end of the matter— a 
new proof that the Tunisian merchant of cotton-caps was 

wrong, at first, in preferring French justice to Turkish 
justice. 


FAREWELL TO AFRICA. 


rpHE reader remembers that the Marshal had invited me 
to be present at the reception of the sheik El Mokrani. 

I took good care not to be absent from such an entertain- 
ment. Besides, this reception was an important event, El 
Mokrani being a considerable personage among the Arabs, 
and the General, in appointing the first day of the year for 
the ceremony, having conferred on it a peculiar solemnity. 

At one o’clock we presented ourselves at the residence 
of the Marshal. The ceremony was about to begin. The 
assembly was numerous. It was composed of the Muftis, 
the Cadis of the two sects, and the assessors of the Muftis 
and Cadis, the Oukils of the various religious bodies, the ' 
Caïds and the Agas from the plains of Metidjah, th© Caïd 
of the Chenouas and persons of his suite, the hero of the ^ 
fête, the Caliph of Medjana, Seid Achmet ben Mohammed ; 
el Mokrani, his youthful son and relations, and, finally, [ 
of a great number of Arabs who had accompanied their 
Cliiefs. • 

The ceremony began with the customary kissing of ] 
hands. Then as, by good-fortune, the Mussulman year on ] 
this occasion ended almost at the same time as the French J 
year ends, the Marshal expressed to the Arabs the pleasure 
that he felt in being able to respond to their wishing him a 
happy New year, by returning the compliment. 

A JMufti, an octogenarian, began to speak, and begged 
the Marshal to accept their congratulations on the occasion ' 

346 


FAEEWELL TO AFEICA. 


347 


of the New Year, and the prayers which they addressed to 
God that He might deign to augment still further, if it 
were possible, the power and the happiness of France. 

Then the Marshal in his turn spoke, and with the forcible 
clearness and the felicity of diction characterizing him, 
explained to the Arabs, that the happiness of Algeria 
already involved three important points to which they 
ought to give their earnest attention. These three points 
were, peace, justice, and agriculture. 

“ PeacCf’ said the Marshal, “ that is my concern ; I pro- 
mise it to you, and I will secure it.” 

El Mokrani made a sign that he wished to reply. ‘‘Mon- 
sieur le Maréchal,” said he, “ we are all convinced that 
your government cannot be aught else but prosperous, for 
the good man cannot fail to experience your benefits, the 
, bad man cannot escape your wrath.” 

“ Justice '’ — continued the Marshal — “ It is administered 
by those of yourselves whom yourselves have deemed wor- 
thy to fulfil the sacred functions of judges. They act under 
my eye, and my direction. Complain, therefore, to me, if 
you have reason to complain, and when needful, I will 
have justice executed on justice.” 

The Cadi, then, in the name of the Mussulman magis- 
tracy, thanked the Marshal for the confidence which he 
had been so kind as to repose in the natives of the country, 
assuring him of the care which the Mussulman judges 
would take to prove themselves worthy of the important 
duties which they discharged. 

^‘Agriculture ” — resumed the Marshal — “Agriculture fol- 
lows in the train of peace. War is a triple scourge, for 
besides its own especial horrors, it entails want and misery. 
Now I have promised you peace. It is, — with the aid of 
God to spare us a visitation from the drought and the 
grasshoppers, — to promise you abundance.” 


348 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


Then the Marshal made a sign to El Mokrani to ap- 
proach, and gave him a gun, saying : “ Against lions, and 
against the enemies of France.” 

Then he placed on El Mokrani’s shoulders a burnoose 
of red cloth, trimmed with gold lace, and gave him a piece 
of Lyons stuff of which to make a present to his wives. 
El Mokrani presented in return a magnificent Arab gun, 
all damaskeened with silver, all resplendent with coral. 
The gun was certainly worth ten times as much as the 
one which France had given him by the hands of her 
Marshal. 

El Mokrani’s son, a beautiful boy of ten years of age, 
wore a cachemire burnoose which might have been coveted 
by the most elegant woman, whereas she would scarcely 
have consented to cover her lackey with the gold- laced 
burnoose which the royal munificence had bestowed on the ^ 
Caliph. Doubtless he had in his tents pieces of the magni- 
cent stuffs woven at Fez, or embroidered at Tunis, com- 
pared with which the silks of Lyons have no more value 
than has a Ternaux shawl when compared with a tissue of 
the Indies. 

But El Mokrani was a well-bred man. He looked as if 
he regarded the gun, the burnoose, and the piece of Lyons 
stuff, as more precious than his own gifts, and retired 
thanking the Marshal with all the pomp of the Arabic 
language. 

After having invested the new Caliph with authority, the 
Marshal turned toward the Caïd of the Chenouas, Kassem 
ben Djalloud, and thanked him, in the name of France, for 
the assistance which, fifteen days previously, he and his 
tribe had rendered to a wrecked ship whose crew he had 
saved. If, two years before, the ship had been lost on the 
same coast, not a man w'ould have been spared, not a head 
would have remained on its shoulders. 


FAREWELL TO AFRICA. 


349 


You confuse me, Monsieur le Maréchal,” replied the 
Caïd, “ by the compliments which you address me. I think 
that I have done but my duty, and for a Mussulman to do 
his duty, is only to be an honest man.” 

The ceremony was ended. The Marshal dismissed every 
one, with the exception of the Caliph and his son, who were 
to dine with us. When we were alone with the Caliph, the 
Marshal said to me: “You shall see how well the French 
and the Arabs understand each other.” “El Mokrani,” 
continued he, “ my Government, in naming you Caliph of 
Medjana, grants you a salary of twelve thousand francs.” 

“ I shall pay them punctually, to the last farthing,” re- 
plied El Mokrani, bowing. 

With his Arab notions of things, he could not un- 
derstand that he was paid, instead of paying, to exercise 
command. 

In my turn, I profited by the opportunity to ask him 
some questions. “ How many sons have you ?” I inquired. 

“ Three,” he answered. 

“ And how many daughters ?” 

“ I do not know.” 

He had never thought it a matter of enough importance 
to inquire about the number of them. 

I asked him whether he had any idea of those great cities 
which were called Carthage, Babylon, Tyre. 

“ The cord that supports the Arab’s tent is but a cord,” 
he replied, “yet it has seen the fall of all the cities of 
which you speak.” * 

The evening and the next day were devoted to our pre- 
parations for departure. We left Algiers on the 3d of 
January, on the frigate Orinoco. 

Nothing passes so quickly as the last hours preceding 
departure ; so on the 3d, at ten o’clock in the morning, we 
found ourselves aboard of the Orinoco, reproaching our- 
30 


350 


TALES OF ALGERIA. 


selves with not having accomplished half the things that 
we had purposed doing in Algiers. 

Fifty fathoms from the Orinoco the Veloce lay at anchor. 
There we were leaving good warm-hearted friends, who 
must have been very much astonished when they heard 
that Monsieur Léon de Malleville said that our presence 
on board the Veloce had dishonored the French flag. As 
a matter of course, Monsieur Léon de Malleville, after 
having said that, took refuge behind the inviolability of the 
tribune. It is well that people should know the fact, so I 
print it. 

All the oflicers, with Captain Bérard at their head, were 
on the deck of the Véloce, all the crew were in the net- 
tings, in the shrouds, and in the tops, all the handker- 
chiefs, all the hats waved to us good-bye.^ 

Our vessel weighed anchor, and we passed at half-pistol- 
shot from each other, giving a loud shout as farewell. As 
long as I could perceive the Véloce, the officers remained 
on deck, and the sailors in the rigging. For an hour, I 
stood with eyes fixed and body motionless. We had passed 
such pleasant hours with those worthy officers, with those 
jolly tars, who deemed it quite as proper to give a ship to 
a poet as to a third or a fourth attaché of an embassy. 
Soon all faded away in the distance, like a dream — first the 
Véloce, then the city, then the mountains themselves. Soon 
Africa was naught but a vapor, and that vapor in its turn 
disappeared. 

It is true that I bore away a liviiig memory of the 
Africa Avhich I was quitting. It was my two Arab artists 
whom I brought away from Tunis to sculpture a chamber 
for me at Monte Cristo. 

On the evening of the 4th, after a delightful trip of only 
thirty-nine hours, we entered the port of Toulon. Just the 
reverse of what I should feel, my heart is always oppressed 


FAREWELL TO AFRICA. 


351 


wlien, after a distant voyage, I again set foot in France. 
In France await me petty enemies and long hatreds, whilst, 
on the contrary, from the moment that he passes the fron- 
tier of France, the poet is in reality but the living-dead 
present at the verdict of posterity. In France are con- 
temporaries, in other words, envy ; in foreign lands is pos- 
terity — justice. Why is this, when it would be so beautiful 
were it otherwise ? 


THE END. 


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